New Girl in Town
by SSG Michael B Jackson
Summary: When an injured young girl with a fantastic story and powers of her own drops into Clark's life, complications ensue. Will she manage to find a niche for herself in Smallville? Check it out and see!
1. Arrival

**New Girl in Town**

**By SSG Michael B. Jackson**

_Disclaimer: I don't own a damned thing to do with Smallville, to include any of the DC Comics characters portrayed. Hell, most of them have been around since before my parents were born, so how could I? Anyway, there's no money in this for me; I only want to have a little fun and maybe entertain a few other people as well, so enjoy and please don't sue me. I'm a poor soldier with four kids, so you wouldn't get much anyway!_

He wasn't sure why he'd felt drawn to the caves this particular night, but he couldn't deny the attraction. He'd been apprehensive at first, and still was a little. It'd been quite some time since Jor-El had last made his presence known, but Clark didn't believe for a moment that he'd heard the last from his biological father. Still, whatever had drawn him to the caves hadn't _felt_ like anything that had to do with Jor-El, or anything else Kryptonian for that matter. It was just an odd feeling, a premonition of sorts, that _something_ would be happening at the caves tonight; something that he should be there for.

Nothing seemed out of sorts when he arrived; all was as he'd last seen it. All of the various symbols were in their proper places (or at least the places they normally occupied), and there'd been none of the unnatural shiftings of the caves' geometry that often seemed to accompany his father's manifestations there. In fact, after a few minutes of walking around the caves, searching in vain for whatever had brought him there, Clark was seriously considering heading home. While he generally trusted his instincts, he was beginning to think that this time he'd been wrong. To say that he'd had a lot on his mind lately was an understatement, and maybe that was catching up with him; even he had his limits, after all. But, just as he'd made up his mind to call it a night and had turned to go, it began.

It started as a faint flicker of light behind him, so dim and so short-lived that, if he were anyone else, he'd probably just assume that he'd imagined it. But he wasn't anyone else and he knew that whatever had just started wasn't a figment of his imagination.

Turning, he saw that the symbols surrounding the octagonal 'keyhole' in the rock wall had fluoresced ever so slightly and were flickering dimly. He frowned, puzzled; he'd seen those particular symbols do far odder things, but never this. Curious now, he edged cautiously closer, wondering what was next.

As he approached, the symbols began to flare brighter, still flickering, and now… shimmering as well? Clark blinked hard once just to be sure that his eyes weren't somehow deceiving him, though he knew just how unlikely that was in his case. But no, the symbols were definitely shimmering, and that wasn't all. They, along with the entire wall, were beginning to warp and shift as well, almost as if they were merely images projected onto the surface of some viscous liquid. Clark's frown deepened; he'd seen something like this once before, the last time Lex's father, Lionel, had mounted an effort to unlock the caves' secrets. But on that occasion, the key had been involved and, at the moment, it was nowhere near the caves. 'Curiouser and curiouser,' Clark thought to himself, wondering what was next.

As if in answer to that thought, the entire aspect of the wall suddenly changed. Like one of those impossibly-drawn figures, designed to play with the eye's ability to interpret a two-dimensional drawing as a three-dimensional object, the wavering surface of the wall seemed to both swell and invert somehow, becoming both a convex protrusion and a concave depression at the same time. Worse, it seemed to waver back and forth between the two aspects depending on how Clark looked at it. Curiosity overriding caution, he edged his way closer until he was mere inches from where he thought the wall's surface should be. Peering intently into the shimmering, wavering surface with all of his enhanced senses, he thought he saw something… something tiny, or far off in some impossible way… and then, without warning, there came a searing flash of white light, so bright that even Clark was momentarily blinded.

Accompanying the flash was a sharp boom like a clap of thunder, and, just as Clark had begun to react at the phenomenal speed that was normal for him, intending to throw himself sideways away from the anomalous section of wall, something massive hit him square in the chest like a freight train. With a "Whuff!" of escaping breath, he was picked up off his feet and thrown back, slamming into the wall behind him with enough force to shake the entire cavern. He slid down the wall to a sitting position, momentarily stunned, and realized dazedly that whatever had hit him was now lying across his lap.

Giving his head a good shake to try and settle everything back into place, he looked down to see what, exactly, had knocked him for such a loop, his eyes widening as he did so. The 'object', it seemed, was a young girl, maybe fourteen or fifteen years old, entirely naked and badly burned over most of her body. 'Oh, my God!' Clark thought, his mind suddenly racing.

'First things first,' he thought next, peering into her body almost instinctively with his x-ray gaze and listening with his preternatural hearing. She was alive, he realized almost at once; he could hear her heart beating, the breath moving into and out of her lungs with a labored wheeze. And, he saw, other than the burns, she wasn't badly injured. There were no broken bones and no head or neck injuries that he could find and everything else seemed to be in good working order. There were no ruptured organs or internal bleeding or any of the other things he'd expect a normal teenaged girl to have suffered after an impact like the one she'd endured. In fact, from her point of view, she might as well have been shot out of a cannon and slammed into a stone statue with a brick wall behind.; she should've been a new cave painting right about now, done in shades of scarlet. Which could mean only one thing, of course; she wasn't normal.

As this thought crossed Clark's mind, the girl moaned and stirred; no, definitely not normal. Aloud, he said, "Whoa! Easy there; don't try to move. You're gonna be okay, but I've got to get you out of here."

As he said this, Clark very carefully slid his hands under the girl's shoulders and knees, trying his best not to injure her further, and then very slowly tucked his legs under himself and stood. This elicited another moan and a little cry of pain from the girl, but there was no helping that. Then, as gently but quickly as possible, Clark carried the girl from the caves, heading for the old Dodge pick-up parked a short distance outside. Just lucky, that, he figured; normally, he'd have simply run to the caves. He'd just happened to be driving when the strange compulsion to visit the caves had come over him, and he hadn't bothered to take the truck home first. If things hadn't happened that way, he'd probably have had to simply call an ambulance and sit tight; he didn't think the girl was in any shape to endure a super-run into town.

Reaching the truck, he fumbled awkwardly with the passenger door, the girl still in his arms, and, finally getting it open, set her as gently as possible on the bench seat. Once that was done, he stepped back to rummage in the metal tough-box in the bed, fishing out a first aid kit. He knew that there wasn't much of anything he could do on-site for burns as massive as hers, but he figured that he could at least use the emergency blanket; she needed to keep warm to help stave off shock, and he thought she might thank him later for giving her something to cover up with.

Stepping back to the passenger door, he reached inside, draping the Mylar space-blanket over her loosely, taking care lest it stick to any of her burns. Then, closing the door, he moved to the driver's side, jumped in and fired it up. As soon as the engine caught, he slammed it into reverse, turned around carefully so as not to jostle his passenger, and headed for the main road. But, as cautiously as he was trying to drive, a completely smooth trip up the old gravel track in a pick-up truck was simply impossible.

After the first couple of bumps, the girl moaned once more and slowly opened her eyes. She blinked rapidly a few times and then turned to face Clark, giving an indrawn hiss of pain at the movement. "Who-" she began weakly, and then, taking several short breaths, "Where am I? And where are you taking me?"

Glancing at her briefly, Clark said, "I'm Clark. Clark Kent. Right now you're just outside Smallville, and I'm taking you to the hospital. You had some kind of… accident, I guess, and you're hurt; you need to see a doctor." Then, after a short pause to let this sink in, he said, "I, uh, really don't think you should be talking right now. You should just try to save your strength until we get to the ER."

To Clark's surprise and bewilderment, the girl just gave a short laugh and said, "I'm not too worried about it actually. And that's a no-go on the ER; a hospital is the last thing I need right now."

Frowning, Clark said, "I don't think you understand. You've been burned, well, pretty badly. I'm no doctor, but I'm guessing you've got second and maybe third degree burns over probably at least fifty percent of your body. You need help."

The girl just shook her head slowly and said, "By tomorrow morning, I'll be fine. If, that is, I don't have to try to explain to some poor, well-meaning doctor why there's not a damn thing he can do that'll actually help me. And besides, I can't stand hospital food; not only is it crap, but they never give you enough to actually get full on. So let's just skip the hospital, huh?"

Still frowning, Clark said, "You're sure about that?"

Nodding, the girl said, "Yeah, I'm sure. But if you don't believe me, take a look here." With that, she slid her left arm from under the space-blanket and held it up for Clark's inspection. Glancing at it, he saw that most of the blisters had already gone down, and the dead skin was sloughing off to reveal new, pink skin underneath. Several blackened, more severely burned patches remained, but even they were starting to flake off at the edges, the same new skin showing beneath.

With a low whistle and a curiously excited, fluttery feeling in his stomach, Clark said, "Wow. I guess you really don't need a doctor. But… well, where to, then?"

The girl sighed, and said, "Well, I guess that depends on where I am. What'd you say this place was called?"

"Smallville," Clark said and then, recalling just how the girl had arrived, added, "Uh, Smallville, Kansas, that is."

"Kansas?" she said, shaking her head slowly. "Well, I'm not Dorothy, and I don't have an Aunty Em waiting around, but I sure feel like I just got picked up and dropped 'over the rainbow'. What the heck is up with those caverns, anyway? That was the very last place I'd ever have figured on ending up, if you're wondering."

Again, Clark's mind was racing furiously. Obviously the girl had powers of some sort, but it was equally obvious that she wasn't another Kara; if she was Kryptonian, or related to Krypton in some way, it sure sounded like she'd grown up right here on earth somewhere. It'd be pretty hard to pick up all the little cultural cues she was sending out any other way. Then again, even though she was healing a lot faster than a normal person would, she didn't seem to be getting better nearly as fast as he would've. So maybe her powers came from somewhere else; the meteor rocks, maybe, or a lab accident of some kind like that Allen kid he'd met not too long ago… Well, there was only one way to find out, he supposed.

"Yeah, that was pretty weird, alright," he said. "First something strange happened to the wall down there, then there was a really bright flash and a loud boom, and then you just sort of came sailing out."

Raising an eyebrow, the girl said, "Sailing? Newsflash, guy; I came flying out of there like a bat out of hell! Any faster and we'd probably have made a pretty granite-angel there on the wall. In fact, it's a damn good thing you're a super too, or you'd probably be a new wall decoration now."

The girl's words hit Clark in the gut like a hammer, and it was all he could do to keep from locking up the brakes and skidding to a halt, but he knew that would be a dead giveaway. Instead, he put on the best surprised grin he could manage and said, "Super? Me? Uh, what do you mean?"

The girl sighed loudly and said, "Oh, come on, now. We could play this silly-assed game; I could pretend that I didn't realize that you were tough enough to shrug off being hit by me at that speed, which is the rough equivalent of being run over by a Volkswagen, and you could pretend that the hit wasn't that hard, or that we're both just 'lucky' somehow, but we'd both know that the whole thing was bullshit, so why bother?"

"I, uh, don't know what you mean," Clark said, sounding unconvincing even to himself.

The girl rolled her eyes and, in a sardonic tone said, "Okay, whatever. Have it your way- Clark, was it? I must've been delirious or something; maybe hallucinated the whole thing? That work for you?"

This time it was Clark's turn for a long sigh, and he said, "Yeah, maybe something like that. Look,-"

"Talia," she supplied, "Talia Porter."

"Talia," he continued. "The truth is, I'm a lot more concerned about where you came from and how you ended up down there than what happened afterwards. For now, anyway. Maybe later we can talk about… other stuff. And you still haven't told me where you want to go, by the way."

"Well," she replied, "I guess the first place to go would be somewhere with a phone. Unless you have a cell I can use, that is."

By way of answer, Clark reached into his jacket and handed her his cell. "Who're you calling? Your folks?"

Talia nodded and said, "Yeah. Sorry, but they're out in California; that gonna break the bank on your phone?"

Clark shook his head and said, "No, I've got free long distance. Who doesn't these days?"

Talia just nodded, smiling, and said, "Well, it would've been rude not to ask." With that, she rapidly dialed a number, hit the 'Send' key, and then waited. After a few seconds, a frown creased her rapidly-healing brows, and, even without his ultra-acute hearing, Clark could hear the familiar tri-tone and recorded message that signified the number she'd just dialed was out of service. "Okay, what the hell?" Talia muttered softly, and then, "That's weird. But I've got a couple more numbers to try if it's okay with you."

Clark nodded and said, "Sure, go ahead."

But Talia's frown only deepened after going through three more numbers with similar results. "Okay, now this just isn't normal. One of those numbers should've worked no matter what, short of a full-scale nuclear war. Something's wrong here."

There was forced calm in her tone, but Clark could hear an undertone of worry that he figured could easily blossom into panic. Granted, she was holding up a lot better in this bizarre situation that he thought most teenaged girls would; in fact, if he had to guess, he'd have to say that this probably wasn't the first weird situation the girl had been in. Either that, or maybe she was still in shock. But he didn't think so.

When Clark had no immediate reply for this, Talia sighed and, in a leaden tone said, "Well, let's start down the list, then. What's today's date? Year included, please."

Cocking his head slightly, Clark rattled off the date for her. 'Yeah,' he thought, 'Definitely no stranger to weirdness. Not if she's asking questions like that.'

Talia shook her head and said, "Okay, strike one. That's the same date it was for me this morning. So… Smallville, you say? I've never heard of it. What's nearby? Uh, nearby and big enough to have more than one marked intersection, that is."

Clark gave a small laugh and said, "Well, since you put it that way… I guess Metropolis is the nearest really big city; it's about three hours away by interstate. Topeka's a little farther, and Kansas City is on the other side of the state, on the Missouri border. And that's about it for big cities in Kansas; it's kind of hard to grow corn on asphalt."

Talia gave a small snort and said, "Cute. But what's this 'Metropolis'? The only 'Metropolis' I ever heard of was a really old silent movie. In fact, isn't Metropolis kind of a generic term for 'big city'?"

His eyebrows raising in surprise, Clark said, "Well, yeah, it does mean that. But you mean to say you've never heard of Metropolis, Kansas? It's one of the top twenty cities in the country, population-wise. It's right up there with New York, Miami, Los Angeles, Dallas; you get the picture."

Talia frowned once more, deeper this time, and said, "Whoa, wait a minute, now. I'm no geography whiz, but I know I'd remember something like that." And then, her eyes widening, she said, "Oh, crap! Oh, man, I think I-! I mean, I-! Oh, hell, I hope I have this wrong!"

Frowning now also, Clark said carefully, "Hope you have what wrong, Talia?"

Licking her lips nervously, Talia looked down and said, "Clark, I need a little history lesson. Specifically, I need a refresher on the history of supers. And I guess a low-down on the current situation wouldn't hurt anything."

Still frowning and a bit confused now, Clark said, "Uh, history of supers? Talia, I'm not quite sure what you mean by that."

With a shuddering sigh, Talia said, "Actually, you just told me a lot right there." Then, after a slight pause, "You do have supers here, right? I mean, other than y- well, you know what I mean."

Nodding slowly, Clark said, "They're around, I guess. Every once in a while you hear about somebody with weird powers or something, and not all of them can be explained away or whatever. But if you mean people running around in tights like in a comic book… well, not yet anyway."

Talia paled and swallowed audibly, visibly holding back tears. Concerned, Clark started to slow, intending to pull over, and said, "Hey, are you okay? What's the matter?"

For a few seconds she just continued to look down, lost in her own thoughts. Then, in a strangled whisper she said, "What's the matter? I'm screwed, that's what's the matter!"

Bewildered now, Clark pulled off to the shoulder and said, "Say what? What do you mean you're screwed, Talia? I don't-"

"You don't understand," Talia interrupted bitterly. "Okay, I'll try to spell it out then." She paused once more, obviously trying to collect herself, and then said, "I don't- I don't think this is my world, Clark. I mean, I know this is the United States of America, and I know we're in Kansas. But from what you just told me, there's no way it can be MY United States or MY Kansas! I guess I was a lot closer with that 'over the rainbow' crack than I thought I was…"

"Now wait a minute," Clark said slowly. "Are you trying to tell me that you're from a parallel universe or something? Another timeline, maybe?" She nodded wordlessly to this, and, shaking his head incredulously, Clark said, "Talia, don't take this wrong, but that's- well, that's like, 'The Outer Limits' or something! Stuff like that only happens in science fiction stories and comic books, Talia."

Laughing bitterly, Talia said, "And, apparently, to me. God, I guess this is what I get for being a little do-gooder. I'll bet my buddy Mix-Master is just laughing his ass off right now; if he's still alive, that is."

"Uh, Talia? I hate to say this, but you've completely lost me now. What're you talking about?"

Talia took a deep breath and, exhaling loudly said, "I was in Washington DC working on an assignment. I don't normally do that, mind you; Mom and Dad aren't exactly happy that I managed to get tied up with Section Zero, so I'm more of a reserve operative than anything else. And that suits me just fine; who wants to play superhero as a full-time occupation? Anyhow, there were these terrorists, and- well, it was all set to be 9/11 all over again. 9/11 did happen here, didn't it?"

Intrigued now, Clark said, "The World Trade Centers? Yeah, it happened. Unfortunately."

Talia nodded matter of factly and then said, "Alright, then you understand that part well enough. The thing is, these guys were ready to take it to the next level. Not only were they going to hit the nation's capital; they were gonna go nuclear with it."

She paused again, watching Clark's eyes widen in consternation, and then continued. "Well, to make a long story short, we didn't catch up to them until the eleventh hour, so to speak. Actually, it was even later than that. And it was a situation that- well, there was no way to get the military bomb guy on scene in time and he was the only one we had on tap who had a chance of disarming the thing. So I- did what I had to. I was the only flier on hand, and I'm a pretty fast one too. It was only a backpack nuke, so I- well, I think you can figure it out."

"Oh, my God," Clark said quietly. "Are you saying that you flew off with a nuke strapped to your back? And you survived that?"

Talia gave a little laugh and said, "Well, yes and no. I did fly off with the damned thing, but I never would've survived the blast. Not at ground zero, anyway. Luckily, I had friends… As soon as I was far enough away, twenty, maybe thirty miles high and probably the same downrange, Mix-Master popped in to grab me. He's a teleporter, among other things." And then with a wry grin, she added, "Pain in the ass, chiefly. Anyway, he 'ported in, grabbed me, and had just started to port out when the damn thing went off. We only caught a split second of the blast, and I was between it and him, so-" She paused again, a look of intense concern on her face, and then, forcing a smile said, "I'm sure he made it. He's too much of a smart-ass to be taken out that way."

Seeing her obvious need for reassurance, Clark said, "I'm sure you're right, Talia. So what happened then?"

With another long sigh, Talia said, "You can probably guess the rest. We teleported basically right in the middle of a nuclear fireball; needless to say, for me at least, it didn't go quite right. I got the living hell scalded out of me by what little of the blast I did soak, and then the 'port was nothing like it'd ever been before. I was only about half-conscious, but it took a lot longer than normal, and it just felt, well, weird. Weirder than usual, that is. And then, instead of popping back out somewhere in DC, I ended up barreling out of the wall in that cave down there; I think you're familiar with what comes next."

Shaking his head slowly, Clark said, "Well, one thing's for sure; the radio's been on the whole time we've been driving and there haven't been any special reports about nuclear explosions over the Atlantic. I think that one would be worth interrupting 'Linkin Park' for."

Nodding slowly, she said, "Yeah, you'd think. But it's not just that. From your reactions, I think it's pretty obvious that the whole supers thing doesn't work here the same way it does at home. Let me guess- no super-groups?"

"No," Clark replied evenly.

"No super's licenses?" She said, and seeing the confusion on Clark's face added, "It's kind of like a PI's license or a bounty hunter's."

Again Clark said, "No."

Nodding again, she said, "And of course that means no 'Good Samaritan' laws or 'Hold Harmless' clauses for licensed supers.'

His eyebrows raising slightly, Clark said once more, "Uh, no."

Shaking her head now, Talia said in a small, lost voice, "No, we're definitely not in Kansas anymore, Toto. Not in any Kansas I know, anyway…"

Clark had heard that note in more than one feminine voice, so what came next was no great surprise to him and he reacted accordingly. As Talia started to sniffle and then to sob, he reached across the seat, putting an arm around her shoulders, and let her just lean over and bury her face on his shirt-front.

As he held her gently, murmuring soft, comforting nothings, it occurred to him suddenly that, if what she'd said was true, he might finally have found someone who was as alone as he was. Alone, and, in a sense, even farther away from home. He'd lost his entire world, after all, but, apparently, she'd lost a whole universe. And, while it more than likely still existed somewhere out there, who knew how, or even if she'd ever be able to go back. In it's own way, he thought, that might be even worse than having your world destroyed. In his case, he knew that there was nothing to go back to, no one waiting and worrying for him there. For her, even if she found out that there was no way back home, she'd always know that it was out there somewhere and that the people who loved her most likely thought her dead. And, unlike him, she had no one here; no one except for him, that is, at least for the moment.

As that realization struck him, Clark felt his heart go out to the girl. Not in any romantic way, of course; she was young enough to be his- well, his little sister, at any rate. But it was obvious to him that, more than anything right now, she needed a friend, and that was a role he was prepared to accept. Lord knew, it wasn't as if he had any shortage of 'little sisters'.

And, just as that thought crossed his mind, he noticed that the pair of headlights he'd been watching approach in the rearview mirror had slowed, and were in fact pulling in behind them. Then, as the other vehicle rolled to a stop, a side-mounted spotlight flared to life, and a set of red-and-blues lit up on top along with the four-ways. A sinking sensation hit Clark in the gut as he saw a slight, feminine shadow exit the police cruiser and, maglite in hand, slowly approach the truck.

As the sheriff came alongside the vehicle, stopping just short of the driver's door, Clark reluctantly rolled the side window down and just waited. Shining the light inside, taking in both Clark and Talia and the… questionable position they were in, she said dryly, "Mr. Kent. Well, I'd intended to ask what you were doing parked out here alongside the highway at this time of night, but I think I've got a pretty clear picture now. Why don't you two lovebirds just step out of the vehicle and come on back here to my car. I think you'll find it nice and cozy there in the back."

_Okay, first effort at a Smallville fic, so hopefully this isn't too terrible. I apologize for any continuity errors and what-not in advance, BTW; I haven't seen each and every episode of the series. I missed out on part of season three, a fact which I'm trying to rectify right now, and I've seen most of season four through 'Krypto'. I'm good on seasons one and two, but it's been a while. Alright, that said… Talia is an original character, but don't worry; I don't plan on any 'Mary Sue' action, nor do I intend her to take on a 'Supergirl' role or become romantically involved with Clark. Basically, she's just there now, in Smallville, and I'll have to see where things go from here. Please review, and let me know what you think._


	2. Complications

**New Girl in Town**

**By SSG Michael B. Jackson**

_Disclaimer: I don't own a damned thing to do with Smallville, to include any of the DC Comics characters portrayed. Hell, most of them have been around since before my parents were born, so how could I? Anyway, there's no money in this for me; I only want to have a little fun and maybe entertain a few other people as well, so enjoy and please don't sue me. I'm a poor soldier with four kids, so you wouldn't get much anyway!_

As the sheriff came alongside the vehicle, stopping just short of the driver's door, Clark reluctantly rolled the side window down and just waited. Shining the light inside, taking in both Clark and Talia and the… questionable position they were in, she said dryly, "Mr. Kent. Well, I'd intended to ask what you were doing parked out here alongside the highway at this time of night, but I think I've got a pretty clear picture now. Why don't you two lovebirds just step out of the vehicle and come on back here to my car. I think you'll find it nice and cozy there in the back."

"Sheriff," Clark said quickly, "This isn't what it looks like."

The sheriff sighed tiredly and said, "It never is with you, is it Kent? Well, regardless, you need to get out of that truck like I just told you and-"

"Sheriff, this girl's just been in some kind of accident," Clark said, thinking furiously. Obviously, he couldn't tell the sheriff everything, but he had to come up with something that contained just enough of the truth to be convincing. Seeing the sheriff's expression shift from irritation to wary concern, he rushed ahead. "I, uh, found her down at the caves, unconscious, and I was going to take her to the hospital, but she woke up and got a little hysterical and- and I had to pull over to try and calm her down." He paused then, both to gauge the sheriff's reaction and to pull his own thoughts together, and then finished with, "That's just about the time you rolled up, Sheriff."

The sheriff was quiet for a moment, mulling over Clark's story as she shined her light around the cab, obviously giving Talia a closer examination. Finally, having come to a decision, she said, "Alright, Mr. Kent, I'll buy that for now. That being the case, I suppose we'd better get this girl to the hospital." She paused for a moment, considering, and then said, "I'll take lead and you follow. And, Mr. Kent?"

"Yes, Sheriff?" he said, knowing that he probably wasn't going to like whatever she was about to say.

"Don't go wandering off once we get there. I'm going to have just a few questions for you. Got it?"

Clark sighed and said, "I got it, Sheriff."

"Good," she said with a tight smile, turning to walk briskly back to her cruiser.

As soon as they pulled out, the sheriff's overheads flashing in front of them, Clark turned to Talia and said, "Well, slight change of plans, I guess."

Talia sighed and said, "Yeah, I guess so. Any bright ideas?"

Clark shook his head slowly, and said, "Not really. I think we're just going to have to wing this the best we can. But one thing's for sure; we need to get our story straight now and then stick to it."

"Huh!" Talia said with a slight smile. "Sounds like this isn't the first time you've had to bullshit the cops, Clark."

"Well, sure," he said just a bit too quickly. "I'm a varsity football player; pulling the wool over the local sheriff's eyes is a weekend survival skill."

Nodding appreciatively, Talia said, "Riiiight. But I think we've got some serious brainstorming to do between here and the hospital. Things are gonna get real hard to explain just as soon as the doctors start poking and prodding; the first bent needle is gonna raise some eyebrows." Then, flushing slightly, she looked down and said, "Here I am going on about 'we' and 'us' like I just expect you to help me. Guess that's kind of presumptuous, huh?"

Beyond the guilt in her tone and the brave face she was putting on, Clark could hear the underlying desperation. Obviously, this was a girl who was used to solving her own problems, but it was equally obvious that she was in over her head this time. And, Clark thought, super powers or no, in the end she was just a kid. No matter how competent she was, she needed someone's help, and he was the only one in a position to provide it.

With a reassuring grin, he said, "I don't think it's presumptuous to expect a hand when you need it, Talia. Or at least it shouldn't be. And of course I'll help you any way I can."

He saw her visibly relax then, and she said, "Thank you. And for what it's worth, I won't ever forget this."

"Well," Clark said, a little embarrassed by her gratitude, "I wouldn't thank me just yet. We've still got to figure something out and then pull it off."

"Yeah," Talia said distractedly, her mind already racing, "That we do." Then, after a slight pause, she continued with, "Y'know, I think I can probably tap dance my way around the doctors. By the time we get to the hospital, these burns should be healed up enough so that they don't think I need serious treatment. And as long as they stick to x-rays or CAT scans, or whatever, everything will be fine. Just as long as I can keep them from trying to stick a needle in me or something."

Clark nodded slowly, and said, "That sounds good, but there's a bigger problem."

"The sheriff," Talia said flatly.

Clark nodded again and said, "The sheriff. Not only is she going to have a whole lot of questions that are going to be hard to answer, but she's going to want to ID you too. And from what you told me-"

"There's no ID to find," Talia finished for him and then added, "Not in your timeline, anyway."

"Right," Clark said, "And, even if we get past all that somehow, you're still a minor. The sheriff can't just kick you loose; if she can't locate your legal guardians, I'm pretty sure she'll have to feed you into the foster care system."

Talia rolled her eyes and said, "Oh, doesn't that sound like fun. And I'm sure there's just no shortage of nice couples out there who'll be thrilled to take in a super-powered teenager from a parallel universe."

"Actually," Clark said in an odd tone, "Assuming we can make it happen, I might just know of a couple like that."

Giving him a sideways glance, Talia said, "Uh-_huh._ Well, in that case, I guess the big speed bump here is still the sheriff. I can try to spin some bullshit yarn for her, but anything I tell her is gonna be a verbal minefield. One wrong step and the whole thing will blow up in our faces."

"Well," Clark said thoughtfully, "The more elaborate you make a lie, the harder it is to hold it together. I'd tell her as little as possible, and make as much of that the truth as I could. That's the only way this is going to work."

"As little as possible…" Talia repeated, eyes unfocused in thought. Then, smiling, she said, "Y'know, Clark, I think you just gave me an idea…"

As they pulled up to the ER, Talia was just finishing a rather revolting task which had made Clark glad to keep his eyes on the road earlier. Taking care to keep herself covered as much as possible, she'd meticulously scratched and scraped as much of the seared, dead skin from herself as possible, exposing the slightly livid new skin underneath. Clark had done his level best not to let his gaze stray anywhere near Talia during this process, but now that she was done he turned to examine the results.

"Not bad," he said in a neutral tone. "When I found you, you looked like you'd just been dunked in a deep-fryer. Now you only look like you got a little too much sun. I can't see the doctors freaking out over that."

She nodded and said, "Well, let's hope. Just as long as they don't want to stick me."

Clark frowned just slightly and said, "You seem awfully worried about needles; that's about the third time you've said something. What's the deal?"

"What's the deal?" she said incredulously. "The deal is, unless Smallville Med stocks diamond-tipped, Teflon-coated titanium needles, they're probably not gonna be able to break my skin. Garden variety steel needles just won't cut it."

"Okay," Clark said mildly, "That makes sense, I guess, in light of everything else you've told me."

Before Talia could reply to this, they saw the sheriff exit her vehicle, striding purposefully in their direction.

"It looks like it's show time," Clark said in a low voice. "You ready?"

Reaching for the door handle, Talia said in the steadiest voice she could manage, "As ready as I'll ever be, I guess."

Once Talia had been escorted inside and was safely ensconced in a treatment cubicle with one of the ER doctors, the sheriff wasted no time in pulling Clark aside. "So, Mr. Kent," she drawled, "Care to tell me what happened out there?"

"Uh, sure, Sheriff," he said evenly. "What do you want to know?"

"Oh, you know the drill, Mr. Kent," she said with just a hint of sarcasm. "Just start at the beginning. If I have any questions, I'll let you know."

"Right," Clark said with a sigh and then, "Well, I was down there in the caves-"

"Why?" the sheriff interrupted.

"Excuse me?" Clark said, taken a bit off guard.

"Why were you down there in the caves, Mr. Kent? You just make a habit of late night spelunking, is that it?"

Frowning slightly, Clark said, "It's just sort of a place I go to think sometimes, Sheriff. It's kind of peaceful down there, and for some reason looking over the cave paintings helps me clear my mind. I've cleared going down there through Lex if you're wondering, Sheriff; you can call him if you want."

The sheriff shook her head slowly, a sardonic half-grin on her face, and said, "Oh, I don't think that'll be necessary, Mr. Kent. I'm sure that if I did, your friend Mr. Luthor would back up anything you might tell me. Anything at all."

Ignoring the sheriff's implication, Clark said, "At any rate, I was walking around down there, heading for the central chamber, and I heard what sounded like a moan. That weirded me out a little, but I don't believe in ghosts, so I started looking around. I didn't have to look very far, though; as soon as I walked into the central chamber, she was right there in front of me on the floor. She was stark naked and she had all these half-healed burns on her and, well, it was obvious that something had happened to her. She was kind of semi-conscious, but she wasn't saying anything coherent, so I just sort of checked her out the best I could and then carried her out to the truck. I wrapped her up in the space-blanket to try and keep her warm, and then took off. While we were driving, she woke up and got really excited, so I pulled over to try and calm her down, just like I told you out there. And that's when you pulled up behind us, Sheriff."

The sheriff was silent for a moment, nodding slowly, and then said, "Okay, Mr. Kent, I'll buy all that for now." Then, after a short pause, she said, "So do you have any idea who this girl is or how she got down there? Did she tell you anything on the way here?"

Clark shook his head and said, "About the only thing I got from her was her name, Sheriff; Talia. And I can't even imagine how she got where I found her, much less what happened to her."

With a long sigh, the sheriff said, "Somehow that doesn't really surprise me, Mr. Kent. You seem to have a penchant for being right at the center of anything strange that happens in this town, yet you never seem to have any explanations. Why is that?"

"I don't know, Sheriff," Clark said innocently. "Sometimes I ask myself the same question."

"I'll just bet," she said skeptically and then, "Alright, I think my curiosity is satisfied for right now. I'll probably need to talk to you about this again later, but it's not like I don't know where you live. You're free to go, Mr. Kent."

"Thanks, Sheriff," Clark said quickly, "But, if it's alright, I think I'd like to stay at least until we know she's okay. I feel kind of responsible for her, all things considered."

Frowning just slightly, the sheriff said, "Well, Mr. Kent, far be it for me to tell you whether or not you can hang out at a public hospital. But, especially considering the hour, you might want to give your folks a courtesy call. They might have a different take on things."

Nodding vigorously, Clark said, "Oh, definitely, Sheriff. I don't want them worrying about me or anything. But I doubt if they'll have a problem with me staying here for a while. In fact, when I tell them what's going on, it wouldn't surprise me if they decided to come down here themselves."

When the sheriff offered no comment to this, Clark turned away slowly, retrieving his cell phone from a jacket pocket. Then, walking toward the entrance, he hit the speed-dial and waited. A couple of rings later, there was a click and a familiar feminine voice said, "Hello?"

"Mom," Clark said just a little gratefully, and, before the storm of questions could begin, "I know it's late, and I know you're wondering where I am. It's too long a story to tell over the phone, but I'm down here at Smallville Med, and I need a really big favor…"

A half hour later, a very bewildered Jonathan and Martha Kent walked through the ER doors, right into the middle of a conversation between one of the doctors, the sheriff, and their son.

"So let me get this straight," the sheriff said skeptically to the doctor. "You're telling me that, other than some week-old burns, this girl is just fine. Physically, that is."

The doctor nodded and said, "That's what it looks like so far, Sheriff. Of course, we've only done a preliminary exam; there are a lot more tests we can and probably should do."

The sheriff nodded impatiently and said, "I got that part, Doctor. But right now I'm more concerned with her mental state. You're saying that she's amnesiac?"

"It seems that way," the doctor said flatly. "Other than her name, she hasn't been able to recall anything about herself or her past."

"Huh!" The sheriff said. "She can't remember anything else, but she remembers her name. Isn't that a little odd, Doctor?"

The doctor sighed, and said, "Not as odd as you'd think, Sheriff. Amnesia doesn't work in real life like it does on a soap opera; it's hardly ever an all or nothing thing. It can range from a few lost memories to an almost complete brain-dump or anything in between. Each individual case is different."

Turning a jaundiced eye in Clark's direction, the sheriff said, "I don't suppose you can shed any light on this, Mr. Kent?"

Shaking his head, Clark said, "I'm afraid not, Sheriff." And then, glancing over her shoulder towards his parents, he said, "But it looks like my folks are here, so if you'll excuse me, I'm pretty sure they want to be brought up to speed on things."

The sheriff said nothing, only raising an eyebrow, which Clark chose to interpret as a dismissal. Stepping around her and the doctor, he took both his parents by the elbow and, momentarily ignoring their puzzled looks, led them back through the doors into the cool night air outside.

As soon as the doors swung shut behind them, Jonathan turned to his son and said, "Alright, Clark. Obviously you didn't want to share this with the sheriff, but it's just you and us now, so spill it. What's going on?"

Clark gave a long sigh and then said, "Well, it all started with a funny feeling I had earlier tonight…"

"… and we cooked up the whole amnesia idea on the way to the hospital. All things considered, it seemed like the only way to go."

Both Jonathan and Martha just stood blinking for a moment, trying to digest the outlandish story their son had just told them, and then Martha said, "So you're saying that, while you were down there in those caves, some strange girl who claims to be from another dimension or something just popped out of nowhere and now you're lying to the sheriff to try to protect her? Clark, I-"

"Mom," Clark said imploringly, "She was hurt and she's completely alone. What was I supposed to do, turn my back on her? Or tell the sheriff what she told me? She'd end up at Bellreve for sure, and then probably in some government laboratory once they figured out she's got powers. She's just a kid, and she needs somebody's help."

With a loud sigh, Jonathan said, "Clark, I understand what you're saying, but how do you know that anything this girl's told you is true? Maybe she _needs_ to go to Bellreve. Or, worse yet, maybe it's all an act, and she's here to pick up where Kara left off. Have you thought of that?"

"Of course I've thought of that, Dad," Clark said. "But it just doesn't add up. She's tough, but not tough enough to be a Kryptonian; not from what I saw, anyway. And there's just no way she'd know all that slang and pop-culture stuff if she hadn't grown up on some version of Earth; Kara sure didn't."

Sighing once more, Jonathan said, "Alright, Clark, even assuming she's what she says she is, what do you want to do now? Obviously you wouldn't still be here if you didn't have something in mind."

"Dad," Clark said cautiously, "As it stands, Talia's got no relatives here, no friends other than me, no money, no clothes, no identity even, and… no place to stay _if _she can avoid Bellreve. She needs all the help she can get right now."

Clark's words left little doubt as to what he was after, and it was Martha who found her voice first. Shaking her head slowly, she said, "Oh, Clark, you can't mean what I think you mean. Son, you hardly even know this girl, and you want to-"

"Give her a place to stay, temporarily at least, where she won't have to worry every waking moment about giving away who and what she is. That's what I'm asking, Mom."

"That's all good and well for her, Son," Jonathan said slowly. "But what about you? Do you want to be the one worried twenty-four-seven about giving away your secret?"

Avoiding his parents' gaze, Clark said quietly, "I don't think that's much of a worry now, actually." Then, seeing both their eyes widen in shock, Clark continued in a rush. "I didn't admit anything to her, but she knows I'm not normal. She hit me like a cannonball coming out of that wall, and since neither one of us splattered… well, it was pretty obvious to both of us what was up. I tried to BS her afterwards, but I know she didn't buy it."

When both his parents remained speechless, just staring at him wordlessly, Clark ran a hand through his hair and said, "Look, Mom; Dad. Why don't you at least come in and meet her? I'm sure we can talk the sheriff into that much, and then… well, after that, at least whatever decision you make won't be made blind. But… the two of you decided years ago to adopt a little boy from the stars, accepting whatever risks came with that. I'm pretty sure you've got it in your hearts to help out a teenaged girl who's just as far from home and just as alone."

Clark saw both his parents' expressions soften, and Jonathan said, "Well I'm not making any promises, Clark, but I guess it can't hurt to meet the girl. Let's go."

Smiling with relief, Clark turned to lead the way back inside.

After a few terse words with the sheriff, the Kent family quietly opened the door and entered the room Talia had been moved to. They'd cleaned her up somewhat, Clark saw, and given her a hospital gown to wear at least. She already looked much better than when he'd found her; at the time, he hadn't even been able to discern her hair color, as a great deal of it had been singed and blackened. She'd removed most of that in the truck, and what was left had been washed, leaving about an inch's worth of pale blonde hair all over her head, which, he noticed as she turned to look at them, accentuated her emerald-green eyes quite nicely.

Keeping in mind that the sheriff was right outside the door, Clark said in a low tone, "Talia, these are my parents, Jonathan and Martha Kent."

Looking up at them from where she lay on the hospital bed, she said politely, "Mr. and Mrs. Kent. It's good to meet you." And then, after a short pause, "Your son, Clark, has really gone out of his way to help me. I hope he's not in any trouble for that, is he?"

Shaking his head, Jonathan said, "No, of course not. We've always taught him that people should help each other whenever they can."

Nodding slowly, Talia said, "That makes sense, Mr. Kent. If everybody just helped out where they could, the world would be a much better place."

Her eyebrows raising slightly, Martha said, "That's a pretty mature statement for such a young lady."

Talia swallowed once and, glancing toward the door, said quietly, "Mrs. Kent, I don't know how much Clark has told you about me, but… well, I guess you could say I've been around a lot more than most fourteen-year-olds. He's told you that I'm not… normal, right?"

When they both nodded silently, she continued in a subdued tone with, "My parents are both supers, and I've had powers since I was eight years old, so I pretty much grew up with all of this. Both of them basically retired back in the eighties; 'hung up the tights', so to speak. But that never stopped them from going back into action whenever they were really needed, and that's the example I've always had." She paused for a moment, remembering, and then said, "I was nine years old when the World Trade Centers fell, and I begged Mom and Dad to take me with them when they suited back up for the rescue effort. They didn't want to, but I finally convinced them, and then I spent the next thirty-six hours crawling through the rubble with them, looking for survivors. I can only imagine how that must've looked, this gawky little girl going into places that all those big, burly firemen couldn't. But I knew, even then, that I was stronger and tougher than any three of them and that if any of them got hurt trying to do something that I could've done instead, it was as good as my fault." She paused for a moment, thinking, and then said, "Having super powers can be a lot of fun, but if you're any kind of human being, it's a lot of responsibility too. It's kind of like carrying around a loaded gun that you can never put down; you either learn how to use it or you try never to take it out of the holster. Either way, you always know it's there." Then, flushing slightly, she said, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Kent. I didn't mean to go off on a rant like that. I guess I just- got a little nostalgic for a minute."

Smiling sympathetically, Martha said, "It's alright, Talia. We understand."

Jonathan cleared his throat pointedly, and said, "Well, the sheriff's probably getting kind of antsy out there, so…"

Martha nodded and, looking to Talia, said, "He's right dear; we should go ahead and go. But I'm sure we'll be seeing you around."

Talia's lips turned up in a slight smile and she said, "I'd like that. Good night, Mr. and Mrs. Kent. Clark."

With that, they left the room and, breezing past the sheriff with a few muttered words of thanks, headed back outside. As soon as the door had swung closed behind them, Clark turned to his parents and said, "Well?"

Both were silent for several moments, contemplating, and then Jonathan sighed and said, "She seems like a decent enough girl, Clark, but-" He pursed his lips and, frowning, continued. "I just don't know. Something like this… This isn't like taking Shelby in, Clark. There's a big difference between taking in a stray animal and taking in a stray _kid_."

"I know that, Dad," Clark said seriously. "But how can we not at least offer? After what she said in there, do you doubt for one minute that if our positions were reversed, she'd do everything she could to help us out?"

Still looking less than happy, Jonathan said, "Normally I'd say that talk's cheap, Clark, but in this case I don't doubt she was sincere. Still…"

"We should do it, Jonathan," Martha said quietly, choosing that moment to break her silence.

Doing a bit of a double take, Jonathan looked to his wife and said, "Excuse me?"

"We should do it," she said once more. "Or at least try to talk the sheriff into it. All things considered, I think we can manage that. I'm sure there'll be some paperwork to go along with this too, but we can cross that bridge when we come to it."

A bewildered expression on his face, Jonathan said, "Martha, don't you think that's kind of a snap decision? We haven't even discussed-"

"Discussed what, Jonathan?" She said in an odd tone. "Finances? Well, I'm sure that's going to be an issue. Living arrangements? We'll work something out, I'm sure. Clark's secret? Well, from what he's already told us, that particular cat's most likely already out of the bag, and it would probably behoove us to try to keep it under our own roof if possible." She paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts, and then said, "There are a million details we can discuss, Jonathan, but it all boils down to one thing. My heart tells me that helping that girl in there is the right thing to do, whether it's convenient for us or not. And is that the kind of example we want to set for our son? That it's okay to lend a hand, but only if it's not too much trouble?"

Jonathan heaved a deep sigh, knowing that not only was he beaten, but that Martha had a genuine point. Finally he said, "Alright, fine. I only hope you're right about this, Martha, because I have the feeling that there could be hell to pay if you're not."

A thoughtful look on her face, Martha said, "Only time will tell, I guess." And then, glancing through the glass doors to where the sheriff stood, she said, "Shall we?"

With another heavy sigh, Jonathan pushed open the door and said, "No time like the present, I guess."

As it turned out, convincing the sheriff to see things their way wasn't so hard after all. In fact, by the tone she took, it was obvious that she'd anticipated that particular turn of events, and that it actually suited her. Taking the cynical view, Clark figured that she probably just wanted to keep as much of her weirdness in one basket as possible. Still, he supposed, even the sheriff had to admit that Jonathan and Martha Kent were probably two of the most likely candidates for foster parenthood in the immediate area. And wouldn't it just raise her eyebrows if she knew what unique qualifications they possessed for dealing with this particular case… At any rate, after an additional hour's business with the social worker who had to be called in, everything was set, temporarily at least. They were assured that there would be more to follow later, especially when of it the girl's identity were ever discovered, but for now they were done.

Convincing the hospital not to hold her overnight for observation and further tests was a bit more difficult, but was helped along greatly by the fact that the patient in question was up and around and loudly insisting to any who'd listen that, other than not being able to remember a blessed thing, she felt fine. Since x-rays and CAT scans had already been done, and showed nothing abnormal, it was hard for the doctors to mount a truly convincing argument for her to remain.

Of course the issue of blood work came up early, but Talia adamantly insisted that she was deathly afraid of needles, that she became almost hysterical at the sight of them, and, given the overall situation, the doctors decided to settle for urine and saliva samples rather than upset her unnecessarily. And when all of these tests failed to turn up anything out of the ordinary, combined with the fact that there was no medical insurance to cover Talia's stay, it became a lot easier to secure her release.

Finally, at somewhere near three A.M., they all left the hospital together, Talia wearing a borrowed set of surgical scrubs, both happy and grateful to have somewhere to call home. Clark was more than a little bit excited as well, wondering where exactly things would go from here and what he and Talia might be able to learn from one another; he'd had more than a few 'little sisters' over the years, but never one who had so much in common with him.

For their part, while exhausted and a bit apprehensive about the future, both Jonathan and Martha found themselves strangely satisfied. Even though they knew they were taking a huge risk as well as shouldering a large responsibility, they both knew they'd done the right thing, and that provided a certain peace of mind all it's own. Also, they could see how excited their son was and how grateful their new charge felt, and that helped matters immensely.

Unfortunately, they were all so wrapped up in their own thoughts and feelings as they left the hospital that none of them noticed a black-suited figure watching surreptitiously from across the street. As they entered the vehicles they'd come in and headed off for the Kent farm, the dark-clad man pulled a slim cell phone from the pocket of his black overcoat and hit the speed dial. After a few seconds, he said, "It's me. The target's left the hospital with the Kent family. How do you want me to proceed?"

_Okay, end of chapter two. This one was mostly transitional, so there wasn't any action to speak of. Next chapter should liven things up a bit, I think. Now that I've got Talia plugged into things, I'll have a little more freedom to move, so to speak, so the pace should pick up. Again, I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this, but bear with and I guess we'll both find out! Please review and hope you enjoy._


	3. Settling In

**New Girl in Town**

**By SSG Michael B. Jackson**

_Disclaimer: I don't own a damned thing to do with Smallville, to include any of the DC Comics characters portrayed. Hell, most of them have been around since before my parents were born, so how could I? Anyway, there's no money in this for me; I only want to have a little fun and maybe entertain a few other people as well, so enjoy and please don't sue me. I'm a poor soldier with four kids, so you wouldn't get much anyway!_

Unfortunately, they were all so wrapped up in their own thoughts and feelings as they left the hospital that none of them noticed a black-suited figure watching surreptitiously from across the street. As they entered the vehicles they'd come in and headed off for the Kent farm, the dark-clad man pulled a slim cell phone from the pocket of his black overcoat and hit the speed dial. After a few seconds, he said, "It's me. The target's left the hospital with the Kent family. How do you want me to proceed?"

After listening for a few more seconds, the dark-suited man nodded once and said, "Understood." With that, absently pressing the 'End' key and slipping the phone back into his overcoat, he headed deliberately for a nondescript Ford sedan parked nearby.

The next morning started out rather rough, at least so far as Jonathan and Martha were concerned. Not being blessed with the unearthly stamina that their son was, and having never been late night partiers even in their youth, neither of them had an easy time getting started after hitting the sack at sometime after three A.M. Fortunately for them, that wasn't necessarily the case for the rest of the household.

Jonathan wasn't sure at first what had woken him, but as his senses slowly came back to life he eventually figured out that it had been his nose. "Bacon?" He said sleepily, rolling over to look at Martha beside him.

Blinking drowsily, she wrinkled her nose and said, "Smells like." Then, frowning slightly, she asked, "What time is it, anyway?"

Glancing at the bedside clock, Jonathan said with a grin, "'Bout half-past too early." Then, seeing Martha's less than amused expression, he grimaced and said, "Around seven thirty, dear." Smiling once more, he added, "Think we can get away with just rolling over and pretending we never woke up?"

Smiling also, Martha said, "Doubtful, Jonathan. Not only is there plenty to be done on this 'working farm', as you're always so fond of reminding people, but there's a whole laundry list of things to do in town today. Or had that slipped your mind?"

Sighing, he said, "No, I suppose it hadn't."

Laughing, Martha said, "Well, okay then, sleepyhead; in that case we should probably go ahead and get up, huh?"

Still smiling, he shook his head slowly and, throwing the covers aside, said, "No rest for the weary."

As they came padding toward the kitchen, Jonathan in sweatpants and t-shirt, Martha in her robe, they heard low, laughing voices along with the sounds of bacon frying and coffee brewing. Mixed in with this were a variety of appetizing odors, which, Jonathan thought, might just make getting up this morning not so rough after all.

"Hey," he said as they rounded the corner, "You two opening up a diner down here?"

The laughter stopped, and two sets of eyes turned toward them, one from the stove, where Talia was juggling her attention between bacon, hash browns and eggs, and another from the table where Clark had just finished setting four places. Smiling, he put down the last fork and said, "Morning, Dad; Mom." He paused, glancing over at Talia, and then said, "We both woke up a little early, so we figured we'd handle breakfast. Hope you don't mind."

From her place at the stove, Talia, a little self-conscious, said, "It, uh, seemed like the least I could do. Considering all that the two of you are doing for me, that is."

Smiling warmly, Martha stepped forward, putting a hand on Talia's arm and said, "Well, it certainly was considerate of the two of you. I know that I, for one, wouldn't have felt like doing all this up this morning." She paused then, looking Talia over critically, and said, "Speaking of which, how are you feeling this morning, dear? You seem to be looking much better."

Talia grinned a bit sheepishly and said, "Well, as I'm sure Clark told you, Mrs. Kent, that's one of my little talents. I tend to get over anything short of death in just a day or two. Uh, not that I've put that one to the test, of course."

There was a slightly awkward silence after this, into which Clark finally injected, "So! Let's go ahead and dish all this up; I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm starving."

Within a few minutes, everything was on the table and everyone was seated and eating. Pausing between bites, Talia took a quick look around the table and then said, "So what's on the agenda for today?"

"Well," Clark said after a long draught of orange juice, "I've got school. In fact, I'm gonna be late if I don't get moving."

From his side of the table, Jonathan said, "I've got plenty to keep me busy right here today; a farm doesn't run itself, after all."

Jumping at this, Talia said a bit too quickly, "Anything I can help out with, Mr. Kent?"

Frowning slightly, he said, "Actually, I think Martha was going to take you into town today, Talia. There are still a whole lot of things that need to be taken care of." And, glancing pointedly at the blue hospital scrubs she still wore, he added, "Not the least of which is getting you some clothes; I think you've gotten about as much mileage out of those as you're going to get."

Flushing, she looked down and said, "Oh. I guess you're right, Mr. Kent; I hadn't really thought about it."

Cocking her head slightly, Martha looked to Talia and said, "Talia, is something wrong? You seem… uncomfortable, somehow."

After a long pause, Talia heaved a deep sigh and said, "Mrs. Kent, I- I'm sorry. But- you have to understand. Yesterday, I was working with a government taskforce, trying to track down a bunch of terrorists before they could blow up Washington DC! I was in my element, and I was pulling my own weight. Now, all of a sudden, not only have I been blown into a totally different reality, but I'm completely dependent on the good will of a family I hardly even know!" She paused for a moment, trying to collect herself, and then said, "I just don't want to be a burden on anybody, Mrs. Kent, that's all. You've already been so kind to me, and stuck your necks out so far, I'm afraid I'll never be able to pay you back."

Her expression softening, Martha said, "Talia; if I were the one who turned up on your doorstep stark naked and completely alone in the world, what would you do?"

Without pausing for thought, Talia said, "Well, I'd help you, of course."

Martha nodded slowly, and said, "And what would you expect in return?"

Talia frowned just slightly and said, "Nothing, really. Just that you accepted my help and didn't take advantage of me, I guess."

Smiling now, Martha nodded once emphatically and said, "Exactly. And that's just what we expect of you."

Talia blushed and looked away quickly, but not before Martha caught the sheen of moisture on her eyes. Concerned, she said, "Talia, are you alright?"

Swiping at her traitorous eyes impatiently, Talia said, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Kent. But it just struck me that I must be both the unluckiest and luckiest girl in at least two universes right now. I was unlucky enough to have this happen to me in the first place, but then I was lucky enough to hook up with a family as cool as yours."

Once breakfast was over, the household sort of scattered to the four winds. Clark headed out for school; Jonathan wandered out toward the barn to start his daily chores, after taking a few minutes to clean up; and Martha and Talia got ready and headed into town.

The last was a bit problematic, considering Talia's wardrobe situation, but they worked it out eventually. Martha's jeans were a bit big on her, and she practically swam in one of Clark's t-shirts, but along with an old set of flip-flops, it all worked for the time being at least. Or, as Martha put it when they were done, "Better than the scrubs, anyway."

Talia had to agree with that, though she cringed when she caught sight of herself in the mirror. "Okay," she said matter-of-factly. "The sooner the clothes-shopping is done, the better. And I hope nobody minds if I wear some purchases out of the store."

Martha laughed at this as the two of them jumped into her little Escort and headed down the drive; it had been a long time since she'd been on a shopping trip like this one, and she was beginning to think it might actually be kind of fun.

As Clark was rummaging through his locker after first period, he felt a light touch on his arm and, turning, came face to face with a very familiar perky blonde. "Hey," Chloe said, dropping her hand.

"Hey yourself," he replied, a small grin quirking his lips. Then, his expression becoming a bit more serious, he said, "You heard anything from Lois?"

Chloe sighed, and said, "Yeah. She made it to Walter Reed, and I guess Uncle Sam is doing as well as can be expected. I still can't believe-"

"I know, Chloe," Clark said sympathetically. "It's always hard to accept when someone you care about gets hurt."

Shaking her head, she said, "He was only supposed to be in Iraq for a few days; just some kind of fact finding thing for the Pentagon. Who'd have thought that the first time he rolled out the gate, his convoy would run into a suicide bomber… Needless to say, Lois is taking this kind of hard."

Clark nodded and said, "Yeah, her and her dad had some issues. I guess this kind of has her re-thinking some things?"

"Sort of," Chloe said slowly. "I think all of us just sort of assumed that Lieutenant General Sam Lane was indestructible or something; old soldiers never die, and all that. But now…"

"Now Lois realizes that her dad isn't going to be around forever."

"I guess that's it," Chloe said in a quiet tone.

Nodding slowly, Clark said, "Finding out that your parents are only mortal isn't easy. Dad's heart attack did it for me."

An uncomfortable silence hung between them for a moment, but then, remembering what she'd intended to ask in the first place, Chloe said, "So; heard you pulled a late-nighter last night, Clark. You look pretty chipper, all things considered."

Clark shook his head slowly and said, "I guess it's true what they say about news traveling fast in a small town."

Chloe nodded and said, "At least when you're talking about Smallville's resident news-hound. So what happened?"

Clark sighed and said, "Well, first, tell me what you heard and then maybe I can fill in the gaps."

"Okay," Chloe said with a small shrug. "My… 'source' told me that you showed up last night at Smallville Med with a naked Jane Doe who can't remember anything except her own name. I also heard that you just sort of tripped over her down at the Kawatche Caves, and that she ended up going home with you and your folks." Then, batting her eyes innocently, she said, "Anything to add to that?"

In a tone of grudging respect, Clark said, "That pretty much covers it, Chloe. How did you find all that out?"

Taking a mock serious tone, she said, "Clark; you know a good reporter-"

"Never reveals her sources," he finished tiredly.

"Wow, you _have_ been paying attention to me," she said facetiously.

With an amused grin, Clark said, "You make it hard not to most of the time, Chloe. Whether I want to or not."

Rolling her eyes, she said, "Funny, Kent. Seriously, though, what happened last night? There has to be more to it than that."

Shaking his head absently, Clark said, "Actually, there isn't. Other than Sheriff Adams rolling up and just assuming that we were- well, let's just say the girl got a little distraught when she woke up, and the sheriff happened by while I was trying to calm her down. Naturally she assumed the worst."

Quirking an eyebrow, Chloe grinned and said, "No truth to that one, I take it?"

"Chloe," Clark said in a mildly scandalized tone, "She's only fourteen years old. Have I ever struck you as the pedophilic type?"

Grinning even wider, Chloe said, "No, I guess not." And then, after a slight pause, she said, "So what's up with her now? She's staying with you and your folks?"

Clark nodded slowly and said, "For now. But hopefully, either she'll remember who she is soon, or the sheriff will be able to figure it out for her. In fact, one of the things Mom's doing today is taking her down to the sheriff's office for fingerprints and photos so that they can run her on the national databases. If she's a runaway or if she's been reported missing, that should turn up something." Then, glancing pointedly at the hallway clock, Clark said, "Sorry, Chloe, gotta run; don't want to be late for second period."

"Sure, Clark," she muttered, watching him hurry away, the wheels spinning inside her head. Then, frowning, she thought, 'Okay, Clark, if there's one thing I've learned to tell about you over the years, it's when you're hiding something. And you're hiding something about this. Well, I've already cracked your big secret, thanks to poor Alicia; I'm sure it'll just be a matter of time before I crack this one too.'

Jonathan paused in his fence mending, yawning and rubbing his eyes sleepily. 'No more late-nighters for me,' he thought resolutely. 'Tonight, I'm hittin' the sack at a decent hour.' Then, as he reached to pick up his hammer, Shelby began to bark up near the house. He looked up and, with a sigh, put the hammer back down as he saw a familiar silver Porsche pulling up the drive. He waited until it rolled up next to him and, as the driver exited he said neutrally, "Hello, Lex. Something I can help you with?"

Wearing the same slightly sardonic smile that he often wore, Lex Luthor looked to Jonathan and said, "Mr. Kent; as a matter of fact, there is."

Cocking his head slightly, Jonathan said, "And that would be?"

Pausing in apparent consideration for a moment, Lex said, "I understand something a little strange went on at the caves last night, Mr. Kent. Something involving Clark and an amnesiac girl. I'm just trying to shed a little light on things; I'm sure you can understand that."

Frowning, Jonathan said, "Well, it sounds like you know about as much as we do right now, Lex. But if you do find anything out, we'd all sure like to know."

Lex nodded just slightly, and said, "Actually, I was sort of hoping to talk to Clark and to the girl. Talia, wasn't it? I thought that might be a good place to start."

Shaking his head slowly, Jonathan said, "Sorry, Lex. Clark's at school, and Talia's downtown with Martha getting some clothes and tying up some loose ends. Neither one of 'em will be back before late afternoon at least."

Lex was silent for a moment, just looking at Jonathan. His gaze was mild, but unnerving somehow nevertheless. Finally, shrugging, he said with just the slightest trace of amusement, "Well, I guess I'll catch them later then; it's not like I don't know where they live, after all." He let the implications of that statement hang in the air for a moment and then, climbing back into the Porsche, he said, "You have a good day, Mr. Kent. And please; let Clark know I dropped by."

As Lex turned and roared off down the drive, Jonathan muttered to himself, "You too, Lex. And I surely will."

Downtown, Martha and Talia had just about finished their first round of errands by lunchtime. A quick stop-in at the local Wal-Mart, and, at Talia's insistence, the Goodwill as well, had taken care of her wardrobe needs for the time being. When Martha had protested at this last, telling Talia that she didn't have to skimp on anything, at least not this time around, Talia had only smiled and said, "Oh, it's not the money, Mrs. Kent. It's just that there are a couple of…accessories I'm not likely to find anywhere else." Ten minutes later, Martha had understood what she meant as she dropped an old set of green and black Army jungle boots, a pair of black leather Army work gloves, and a second-hand black military trench-coat on the counter. At Martha's questioning look, she'd just shrugged and said, "I've always kind of liked this look, Mrs. Kent; it sends out a certain message, if you know what I mean."

Martha had given a short laugh and said, "It yells, 'Keep Back', if I'm not mistaken."

Talia had nodded, smiling, and said, "Exactly. Plus, all this stuff is tough. Not only will it last a long time, but it'll take a lot of punishment if it has to." Then, seeing Martha's concerned expression, she'd added quickly, "Uh, not that I plan on putting that to the test anytime soon, or anything."

Contrary to what she'd said earlier, Talia hadn't taken the time to change out of her 'hand-me-downs' until all the purchases had been made, but once they were done she'd wasted no time. So, before they'd headed for Social Work Services and then the Social Security Office, they'd stopped off at one of Smallville's two gas stations and she'd changed in the washroom while Martha waited outside. Martha had quirked an eyebrow as she'd come back out, taking in her new ensemble of jungle boots, dark blue hip-huggers, black tank-top, and black trench, hanging open down the front. She'd also noticed the work gloves, now minus the fingers, adorning her hands and had frowned at this, saying, "How'd you manage that? Did you borrow a pair of scissors from inside?"

Shaking her head, Talia had said, "Naw, I didn't take the time for that. I just ripped 'em off."

Martha's eyebrows had gone up and she'd said, "Ripped them off? Talia, do you know how tough those gloves are?"

Looking a little chagrined and a little pleased with herself at the same time, Talia had said, "Well, I think I did mention that I was a little stronger than most girls my age." Then, under Martha's continued gaze, with a small smile she'd added, "Okay, maybe more than a little."

Martha's expression had given way to a smile, and they'd both climbed back into the Escort, going on to complete the morning's activities.

Now, round one done, they sat in the midst of the Talon's lunch crowd, talking animatedly and laughing occasionally as Clark approached their table. They'd called to arrange the meeting a few minutes ago, so his arrival came as no surprise; he simply strolled up and sat down and, eyeing Talia curiously said, "Interesting wardrobe choices there."

Talia shrugged and, smiling, said, "Hey, it's the twenty-first century; fashion is whatever you make it these days, right? Or are you on a one-man crusade to bring plaid back into style?"

With a small snort, Clark said, "Okay, touché, I guess. So I take it everything went okay this morning?"

Martha nodded and said, "So far. I'd forgotten how much paperwork is involved with matters like this, but we got the ball rolling at least." After a short pause, she continued, saying, "Everything is squared with Social Work Services, and the Social Security Office told us that if, after thirty days, there's been no positive identification, we can get her a new Social Security number with some supporting documentation from the sheriff's office. And since we know how that's going to turn out…"

"Right," Clark said slowly, and then, "You're heading over to the sheriff's office after lunch, right?"

Martha nodded once more and said, "Right. Hopefully we'll be able to make that as painless as possible."

"Well," Talia said thoughtfully, "It shouldn't be too bad. I'm sure she'll take the opportunity to try and grill me as much as possible, but really we're just going there for the fingerprints and the photos. As long as I stick to the amnesia thing, we should be fine."

Smiling, Martha said, "Hmm. Sounds almost as if you have some experience with things like this."

"Oh, you could say that, Mrs. Kent," Talia said wryly. "Not so much for myself, but… well, let's just say that, after they retired, my folks were kind of protective of their privacy. We moved around a lot, mostly so none of their old enemies could find us, but things did happen, and after a while, 'creatively reinterpreting' things for the law enforcement community kind of became second nature." She paused for a moment, and then continued with, "In fact, normally this whole fingerprint and photo thing would probably drive me apesh- ah, I mean, crazy. But, since I don't even exist here, I guess it doesn't make any difference really."

Contemplating the double mocha the waitress had just handed him thoughtfully, Clark said, "I don't know, Talia; you can never be too careful."

Frowning at his sudden change of tone, Martha said, "Is something wrong, Clark?"

After a moment's silence, Clark sighed and said, "Ah, it's just Chloe, Mom. Somehow, she got wind of what happened last night, and she tried to go fishing for some more info this morning. It's just her usual thing, that's all."

Before Martha could comment on this, Talia chimed in, asking in a mildly curious tone, "Who's Chloe?"

Clark opened his mouth to answer, but then, looking over Talia's shoulder, closed it again as he saw the object of their conversation step through the front door and make a beeline for their table. Talia turned to follow his gaze, and as the newcomer approached the table, Clark finally said, "Well, speak of the devil. Talia, this is Chloe. Not only is she one of my best friends, but she's also the managing editor of the Torch, Smallville's finest and only school newspaper."

"Hi," Chloe said simply. "Clark, Mrs. Kent." Then, holding out a hand, she turned to Talia and said, "And you must be Talia; the new magical mystery girl. I'm Chloe Sullivan."

Looking at the proffered hand thoughtfully for a moment, Talia finally reached out to take it and said, "Talia. Talia Porter. Nice to meet you, Chloe; Clark was just telling me about you."

Cocking her head slightly, Chloe said, "Really. And what did he have to say?"

Shrugging, Talia said, "Oh, just that you seemed awfully curious about me earlier today. Guess that's just a reporter thing, though, huh?"

Chloe frowned, not sure if she liked the tone Talia was taking, and said, "If trying to get at the truth is a 'reporter thing', then yeah."

Raising an eyebrow, Talia said, "The truth? Wow, and here I thought most reporters were just after whatever makes the biggest front-page splash. Is that what you're after with me, Chloe?"

Chloe was speechless for a moment, neither prepared for Talia's sudden hostility or able to formulate an immediate reply, and, before she could quite recover, Talia stood up, embarrassment written large on her face and said, "I'm sorry, I need some air." With this, she turned and strode out through the front door, leaving a very bewildered threesome behind.

Finally recovering her equilibrium, Chloe looked to Clark with a bemused expression and said, "Whoa! What the heck was that? What'd you tell her, Clark?"

Shaking his head and equally bemused, Clark said, "I don't know, Chloe. I told her that you knew what happened last night and that you asked me about her this morning, but… Look, Chloe, just hang out here, and I'll go talk to her. I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding of some kind." With that, he stood up and headed for the door, Chloe slowly settling into a seat opposite Martha behind him.

Stepping outside, he found Talia a few feet off to the right, hands jammed into her coat pockets and staring at the ground in front of her sullenly. As he approached, she looked up, and he saw the sheen of unshed tears in her eyes. Frowning, he said, "So what was that, Talia? What's up?"

Shaking her head disgustedly, she said, "I'm so stupid sometimes!" And then, when Clark just looked at her inquiringly, she said, "You just got done telling me that Chloe was one of your best friends, never mind the reporter part, and what did I do? I freaked out on her. Way to go, Talia; way to make friends and influence people."

Frowning, Clark said, "So what's the deal with reporters? Beyond the obvious, of course."

Talia sighed and said, "It's just- Well, the whole time I was growing up, reporters were always pretty much the enemy. Mom and Dad were both big-name supers back in the day, with a lot of media splash. Kind of like a couple of rock stars, I guess. Naturally, they took a beating from the media in those days; you know how tabloids treat celebrities. Then, after they retired, they were always afraid of some reporter getting to them, especially through me or Kat. So I guess you could say I've kind of had my mind poisoned toward reporters from an early age. I'm sorry, Clark."

Shaking his head slowly, Clark said, "Don't tell me that, tell her. Chloe can be a colossal pain from time to time, but she's also a loyal friend. Trust me when I say you'd rather have her on your side than against you." Then, frowning, he said, "Who's Kat, by the way?"

A pained look crossed Talia's face, and, in a voice full of tightly controlled emotion, she said, "Kat's- Kat _was_ my older sister. But that really doesn't have anything to do with Chloe, now, does it?"

Seeing that Talia obviously didn't want to discuss whatever had happened to her sister, at least not at the moment, Clark said, "No, I guess not. But she's waiting back there with Mom, so…"

Talia nodded slowly, and, smiling ruefully said, "Right. And this time I'll try not to be such a little bitch."

Things went much more smoothly the second time around. Clark led Talia, looking quite contrite, back to the table where Chloe and Martha sat and, looking to Chloe sheepishly she said, "I'm, uh, sorry about what I said. I know you're curious about me and how I got here, but, truth to tell, so am I. I couldn't really tell you enough to put together much of a story right now, and I guess I'm… just kind of afraid of being labeled a freak of some kind before I even get started in this town. But I shouldn't have weirded out on you like that."

Chloe was enough of a journalist to see in a heartbeat that the girl was hiding something from her, but she could also see just as plainly that her apology was sincere, as was at least the last part of her statement; after all, who wanted to be called a freak? That being the case, she decided to back off just a little, for the time being at least. It'd taken her years to figure out Clark's secret, so she figured she could bide her time a little. And besides, if both Clark and his mother were vouching for this girl, Chloe figured that she couldn't be too bad.

Aloud, she said, "Yeah, well, I guess I can't even imagine how you must feel right now, so I'm willing to let bygones be bygones if you are."

Talia smiled, and, settling once more into her seat next to Martha said, "Cool!" And then, turning serious again added, "I'm glad I didn't burn this particular bridge, Chloe. Right now, I need to make as many friends as possible; I sure don't need any enemies."

Chloe smiled in return and said, "I don't think you have to worry about that. Tell you what; let's just pretend that the last ten minutes or so never happened and then go from there." Then, glancing at her watch, she frowned and said, "And wouldn't it be nice if those ten minutes really hadn't happened. I've gotta get back to class." Glancing at Clark, she added, "And so do you, hero. Want a lift?"

Shaking his head, Clark said, "Thanks, Chloe, but I still need a couple of minutes here. Don't worry, though; I'm sure I'll make it back in time."

An odd grin quirking her lips, Chloe stood and said, "I'm sure you will, Clark. Catch you back at school, then." Then, turning to Martha and Talia she said, "Mrs. Kent; Talia. Be seeing you around, I guess."

After they'd both nodded their farewells, Chloe turned and departed. As the door swung shut behind her, Clark turned back to Martha and Talia and said, "Well, there's one hurdle down. For now, anyway."

Martha nodded and said, "I'm sure everything will be fine Clark." But, as soon as those words had cleared her mouth, an electronic ring sounded from her purse, forestalling anything else she might have planned to say.

Frowning slightly, she fished out her cell, pressed the 'Send' key and said, "Hello?" Then, hearing the voice on the other end, "Jonathan! Is something wrong? Uh, huh. Uh, huh. Who? Lex! Well, what did he- Oh, I see. Alright, I will; he's right here in front of me. Love you too, Jonathan. Goodbye."

Looking to Clark, she said, "Lex dropped by. Apparently, he wanted to talk to you. Both of you."

Clark sighed deeply, and then said, "So much for slipping in under the radar screen. So far we've managed to catch the attention of Sheriff Adams, Chloe, and now Lex too." Then, looking to Talia he added, "That's just about everybody around here who matters, if you're wondering."

"Okay," Talia said slowly, "I'll bite; who's Lex?"

"Alexander Luthor," Clark said. "Another one of my friends, and also head of Luthor Corp and conservator of the Kawatche Caves. He and his dad have had a serious obsession going on for those caves since they were found a couple of years ago. They both think that there's some mysterious secret hidden down there, and Lex at least would probably go to great lengths to figure it out. His dad, Lionel, seems to have lost interest, but I wouldn't count on that."

Frowning, Talia said, "Well, they're not wrong, are they? There's sure as hell something down there! I don't think I'd be here now if there wasn't." Then, a hopeful note creeping into her voice, she said, "Do you think this Lex guy might be able to help me figure out a way home?"

A dark look passed between Clark and his mother then, and she said, "Oh, honey, I know you want to find a way home, but trust me; you _don't _want to get involved with the Luthors. Lex is Clark's friend, but…"

"But," Clark picked up, "The world Lex lives in isn't a very nice one. If he did find a way to help you, it wouldn't come without a price of some kind. And I can guarantee it would be a price you wouldn't want to pay."

A few blocks away, outside the sheriff's office, which was housed in an annex of the county courthouse, a rather nondescript gray Ford sedan pulled into the lot and then backed into a space adjacent to the building. The driver pulled forward and backed up several times, apparently wanting to position the vehicle just so in it's parking slot. Finally satisfied, the driver, a thirtyish man of medium height and build, as nondescript as his vehicle in a gray business suit and mirrored sunglasses, climbed out and, locking the door, turned to leave. Just then, one of the sheriff's deputies exited the building and, seeing the gray-suited man walking away from the building, not towards it, said, "Excuse me! Sir!"

The gray-clad man stopped. Turning slightly, he said, "Can I help you officer?"

Strolling up quickly, the deputy stopped a pace or so away and said, "This isn't a public parking lot, sir. If you don't have business inside, you need to move your vehicle."

With a slight smile, the gray-suited man said, "Oh, I'll be heading inside in a couple of minutes, officer." And, motioning toward a small shop across the street, he added, "Thought I'd check out that little antique store first. It's my wife's birthday tomorrow."

The explanation was as plausible as any, but for some reason the deputy still had that unaccountable 'hinky feeling' that so many good cops often did. Frowning, he said, "Well… what exactly are you here to do, sir?"

Turning just a bit more in the deputy's direction, the gray-clad man said, "Got some paperwork to drop off at the county assessor's office. Work related stuff."

"Really," the deputy said. "And who're you working for?"

His smile growing just a bit wider, the gray-suited man said, "Luthor Corp." Then, moving slowly so as not to alarm the deputy, he reached into his jacket, past a small, well concealed Glock .40 cal into an inner pocket. There, maneuvering expertly by touch past several ID's from a diverse range of organizations which included two federal and three local law enforcement agencies, the gray-clad man secured a particular card and pulled it out. Presenting it for the deputy's inspection, he said, "Here's my company ID."

The deputy studied this for a moment, his hinky feeling still there for some reason, and then handed it back slowly. "Alright," he said reluctantly, "I guess it's cool, then. Just don't take too long across the street there."

Still smiling coolly, the gray-suited man said, "No problem, officer. Wouldn't want to get a ticket or anything, especially not in the company car."

With that, he turned away, heading purposefully for the shop across the street. Behind him, the deputy continued to watch for a moment, then, shaking his head, turned and headed for his cruiser. That being the case, he missed seeing the gray-clad man slip a small cell phone from his jacket and hit the speed dial. Nor did he hear the gray-suited man say, "It's set. The test can proceed as soon as the target's on site."

A few blocks away, within easy view of the Talon, a certain black-clad gentleman stood, an identical cell in his hand, into which he said just one word; "Acknowledged."

With that, he hit the 'End' key and slipped the phone back into his jacket, watching as the 'target' climbed into the passenger side of Martha Kent's burgundy Escort. He made his way the few feet back to his own pale blue sedan then, sliding in behind the wheel unhurriedly. He waited for a few seconds after Martha's vehicle pulled out into traffic, and then pulled out as well, taking care to stay a discreet distance behind. Smiling a thin smile, he thought briefly how much he loved it when an operation proceeded so smoothly.

_Okay, a little cliffhanger here! Who are these non-descript gentlemen, and what kind of 'test' are they planning? Well, hopefully I'll have the answer to that one out in a couple of days with Chapter 4, 'Baptismal'. Until then, hope you didn't mind my little trick for shuffling Lois off to the side; I'm just not quite ready to integrate her into this, and, in this day and age, I think that particular scenario is all too likely for anyone with a military family member. As always, please review, and hope you'll all 'tune in' next time._


	4. Baptismal

**New Girl in Town**

**By SSG Michael B. Jackson**

_Disclaimer: I don't own a damned thing to do with Smallville, to include any of the DC Comics characters portrayed. Hell, most of them have been around since before my parents were born, so how could I? Anyway, there's no money in this for me; I only want to have a little fun and maybe entertain a few other people as well, so enjoy and please don't sue me. I'm a poor soldier with four kids, so you wouldn't get much anyway!_

With that, he turned away, heading purposefully for the shop across the street. Behind him, the deputy continued to watch for a moment, then, shaking his head, turned and headed for his cruiser. That being the case, he missed seeing the gray-clad man slip a small cell phone from his jacket and hit the speed dial. Nor did he hear the gray-suited man say, "It's set. The test can proceed as soon as the target's on site."

A few blocks away, within easy view of the Talon, a certain black-clad gentleman stood, an identical cell in his hand, into which he said just one word; "Acknowledged."

With that, he hit the 'End' key and slipped the phone back into his jacket, watching as the 'target' climbed into the passenger side of Martha Kent's burgundy Escort. He made his way the few feet back to his own pale blue sedan then, sliding in behind the wheel unhurriedly. He waited for a few seconds after Martha's vehicle pulled out into traffic, and then pulled out as well, taking care to stay a discreet distance behind. Smiling a thin smile, he thought briefly how much he loved it when an operation proceeded so smoothly.

It was a short drive from the Talon to the sheriff's office, so it only took Martha and Talia a couple of minutes to get there. Once they'd parked, they went inside, the first stop being the reception window. After a few words of explanation, they were informed that they were expected and then buzzed inside. From there, it was only a short walk to the sheriff's desk, where they found her waiting for them.

"Mrs. Kent," she said by way of greeting, and then, her tone altering slightly, "And Miss Porter." She paused for a moment, looking Talia up and down, and then said, "You're certainly looking a lot better than you did last night. Can't say much about the new wardrobe, though."

When Talia gave no immediate reply beyond a shrug, Martha chimed in quickly with, "So, Sheriff Adams, where exactly do we need to go for these fingerprints and photos?"

Raising an eyebrow, the sheriff looked to Martha and said, "In a bit of a hurry, are we Mrs. Kent?"

"Well, I-" Martha began, but the sheriff cut in with, "Because I thought we might take a few minutes to chat beforehand. Miss Porter and I never really got a chance to say much to each other last night." Then, turning her gaze on Talia, she added, "Did we, Miss Porter?"

Shrugging once more, Talia said, "Uh, not really Sheriff. I was a little out of it last night."

"Well," the sheriff said, "you don't sound too 'out of it' right now, Miss Porter, so it strikes me that this might be a good time for a little conversation. You think you're up for that?"

"I suppose so, Sheriff," Talia said in a neutral tone. "What'd you want to talk about?"

With just a hint of underlying sarcasm, the sheriff replied, "Oh, I'm just sort of wondering if, now that you've had a chance to calm down and relax a little bit, anything might've started coming back to you. You know, little things; who you are, where you're from, what happened to you, things like that, Miss Porter. Any insights there?"

Shaking her head slowly, Talia said, "Nothing yet, sheriff."

Her lips compressed into a thin line, the sheriff said skeptically, "Why is it I get the impression you're not being entirely forthright with me, Miss Porter? Hmm?"

Irritation suddenly flaring to life in her tone, Talia said, "I don't know, Sheriff. Why is it you're treating me like a criminal or something?"

Her eyes narrowing, a sudden smoldering fire in them, the sheriff said in a dangerous tone, "Excuse me, young lady?"

"You heard me, Sheriff," Talia said evenly. "If anything, I'm the victim here, and from the moment you first laid eyes on me, you've done nothing but make veiled accusations and sarcastic comments, and I don't understand what the deal is! I thought the police were supposed to help people in trouble, not badger and belittle them!"

The sheriff took a step closer to Talia, definitely inside her 'personal space', and, in a low tone said, "I think you need to cool down and remember who you're talking to here, young lady. Or is respect for authority something you just don't do?"

Before Talia could launch the fiery retort that was on the tip of her tongue, she thought better of it and simply turned for the door instead, saying, "This is pointless, Sheriff. Come get me if you ever decide you actually want to the fingerprints and stuff." With that, she strode purposefully out, the sheriff seething behind her. Rounding on Martha, the sheriff said, "Well, Mrs. Kent? You got anything to say for her?"

Sighing, Martha said, "She's not a bad kid, Sheriff. She's been nothing but respectful to me all morning, but respect is a two-way street. If you aren't willing to give her any, you're probably not going to get much in return."

While the disagreement had raged inside the sheriff's office, outside, across the street in an alley between two nearby buildings, something else entirely was occurring. Two nondescript, business-suited men, one in gray, one in black, sat inside a sky-blue Ford sedan, both busy at different tasks. The black-suited man, in the driver's seat, manipulated a small device that looked much like a palmtop computer, but wasn't. In the passenger's seat, the gray-clad man held what appeared to be a Game Gear, or something similar, but instead of making the sudden violent moves common to most video gamers, he worked the controls in an even, methodical fashion.

In the courthouse parking lot, inside the trunk of a particular gray Ford sedan, something moved in response to the gray-suited man's efforts. Small, flat black, metallic and insectile, it crawled forth from one of the several docking stations that housed it and it's kindred, moving toward a rectangular hatch in the trunk's floor that slid open as it approached. Crawling through, it shimmied along the car's undercarriage, climbing down the back tire to the ground. It then skittered rapidly away toward it's target; Martha Kent's small burgundy Escort. As soon as it reached the other car, it ascended quickly into the running gear, and, extending small but powerful nippers, went to work at the gray-clad man's behest.

Talia exited the courthouse furious with both the sheriff and herself. 'That's two for two now, Porter,' she thought dismally as she wandered toward Mrs. Kent's car. 'How many more people can you butt heads with today?'

She put her hands out and leaned her head briefly against the roof of the little Escort as she struggled to calm herself. Even under the best of circumstances, she knew, her temper sometimes got away from her, at least where her mouth was concerned, and these could hardly be called the best of circumstances. Fortunately, she'd learned at an early age not to express her anger physically; she'd found out the hard way just what she was capable of, and some of her favorite possessions had paid the price. Now, she simply concentrated on her breathing, turning inward to find her center and let the negative emotions slowly dissolve.

She was startled out of her reverie, though, by a sudden odd sound. It was a kind of scratching or scuffling, and it seemed to be coming from somewhere under the car. Frowning, she knelt down, trying to get a look underneath, but found that the little Escort was just too low to the ground to offer a decent view. Considering for a moment, she glanced around quickly, and, seeing no one nearby, slipped a hand under the edge and lifted. Once she'd raised her side of the car eight or ten inches, she bent down as far as possible and peered beneath. She looked for several moments, but saw nothing, and the sound had stopped as well. 'Huh!' she thought. 'That's weird.'

Just as she was about to lower the car and stand back up, she was startled almost into dropping it as a very familiar voice exclaimed, "Talia! What're you doing!"

"Mrs. Kent!" she said, hastily setting the Escort down. "Sorry! I thought I heard something under there, that's all." Then, seeing Martha's unwavering expression, she added sheepishly, "I made sure nobody was looking first."

Shaking her head slowly, Martha said, "Talia, can you really stand there and tell me that you thought lifting up a _car_ in the courthouse parking lot was a smart thing to do?"

Talia sighed, and said, "No, I guess not, Mrs. Kent. No more so than getting into a pissing contest with the sheriff was. I just- I don't know what my problem is today! I just feel so… off balance. I don't know how else to explain it."

Martha's expression softened a bit, and she said, "All things considered, Talia, I'd be pretty surprised if you didn't feel a little 'off balance' right now. You've gone through an awful lot in the last twenty-four hours or so."

"I know that, Mrs. Kent," Talia said, a note of frustration in her voice. "But even so, I should have a better handle on things! It's not like I'm a rookie, or anything; I've been in bad situations before, and I've been trained how to deal with them! I-!"

"Talia," Martha matter-of-factly, "Whatever else you may be, you're a fourteen-year-old girl who's just been cut off from everyone and everything you've ever known. I couldn't name one adult I know who'd be able to just jump up and run with things after something like that, so don't beat yourself up because you can't. It's going to take time, Talia." Then, after a small pause to let this sink in, she said, "On the other hand, you need to really start using your head. I can see that you're a smart girl, but obviously you're a little impulsive too, and that's going to get you into trouble if it keeps up. I don't want that, and I don't think you do either."

Nodding slowly, Talia said, "You're right, Mrs. Kent. And I'll do my best to pull my head out of my- uh, that is, I'll-"

Martha gave a short laugh and said, "Don't worry, Talia, I understand." Then, looking pointedly back at the sheriff's office, she said, "Shall we?"

Talia sighed and, turning toward the entrance said, "Sure, Mrs. Kent. Let's get this over with."

Across the street, the black-suited man tapped a control on his palmtop, bringing up a small inset window in which a close-up of Talia lifting the Escort played, cryptic data scrolling along the bottom of the frame. He nodded appreciatively and said, "Definitely looks like a live one, alright. Got lots of good data coming in, too. How're things going on your end?"

The gray-clad man replied distractedly, "Still on hold, but I'll be able to pick back up in a second. Maybe five more minutes worth of work after that."

Smiling his thin smile, the black-clad man said, "Good. Then we can see just how big a jackpot this one's going to be."

The rest of the business with the sheriff ended up being not as bad as Talia had thought it would be. Sheriff Adams remained her usual gruff self, but she accepted Talia's apology readily enough, and, apparently, had at least listened to Martha's words if not exactly taken them to heart. While far from cordial, she was at least not actively hostile, and didn't push Talia for any more information on her past. Probably just biding her time, Talia thought gloomily.

Martha had considered stopping by the junior high on the way out of town, but in the end decided to just head home. It was after two-thirty by the time they were done at the sheriff's office, and, after the rocky day they'd had, she figured the school could wait. They'd have to do placement testing anyway, considering Talia's utter lack of academic records, and Martha was pretty sure that would have to be scheduled in advance. Actually, now that she thought about it, with only a few weeks left in the term, there probably wasn't even any point in enrolling Talia until the fall. She shook her head as these thoughts crossed her mind; that was looking awfully far ahead, considering that they had no idea how long Talia was likely to be with them. Still, the testing at least should be done, she thought; better prepared than not, after all.

Both of them were mostly quiet on the way home, lost in their own thoughts. And, for that reason, neither of them really noticed or paid any attention to the gray and blue sedans that trailed them, perhaps a quarter mile behind. They didn't see the gray sedan pull off to the side of the road, the driver reaching for something on the passenger seat as the blue sedan drove on past. Certainly, they didn't see the driver of the gray sedan manipulating the device he'd just picked up, working the controls in the same methodical fashion as before. But they did quickly feel the effects of his actions.

Without warning, the right front tire of Martha's Escort blew, pulling the car violently toward the ditch on that side. Then, as Martha screamed and jammed on the brakes, trying to keep control of the vehicle, she found her foot going straight to the floor without resistance, the vehicle slowing not a whit. She thought briefly of the emergency brake, but there was no time. The ditch loomed up to meet them, and, striking it with the right front corner at somewhere over fifty miles an hour, the car was launched into a cart-wheeling roll. It went briefly airborne, smashing through a rail fence and sailing on into a field beyond. It landed roof down, the right front corner catching ground first. The Escort continued on for perhaps another forty or fifty yards, rolling several more times in the process, before finally coming to a stop upside down in the middle of the field. Behind it, the blue sedan quietly pulled off the roadway, finding a good vantage point to watch whatever ensued.

Inside the Escort, Martha hung limp from the shoulder belt, semi-conscious and moaning, the deflated driver's side airbag sagging in front of her. On the passenger's side, Talia hung from her restraint as well, but while a bit disoriented, she was wide awake and completely unhurt, her inhuman resilience having spared her injury. Shaking her head to clear out the cobwebs, she looked around, took stock of the situation, and then began to act. She reached down and, not bothering with the release, ripped her seatbelt loose, dropping her to the Escort's ceiling. Next, she turned slightly and gave the passenger-side door a good hard kick, tearing it free and sending it flying twenty or thirty yards across the field. After that, she turned to examine Martha, intending to pull her out and get her away from the vehicle, but she ran into an immediate snag with that. It looked as though, somehow, Martha's side of the car had been mangled so as to force the dash assembly and steering wheel down, pinning Martha's legs underneath. Talia couldn't see whether or not Martha had been injured by this, but she was most definitely wedged in.

After considering for a moment, Talia said, "Mrs. Kent? Mrs. Kent, can you hear me?"

Blinking in confusion, Martha replied weakly, "Talia? Yes, I hear you; what's going on? My head…"

"It's okay, Mrs. Kent," she said evenly. "We had an accident and you're stuck in here now, but I'm going to get you out. Just hang on and stay clam, okay?"

Talia took Martha's muttered, "Uh-huh," as an affirmative and climbed out the passenger side. She took another moment to examine the vehicle, taking note of exactly how it lay, and then, picking the most likely spot, began to lift. Fortunately, the Escort wasn't exactly a heavyweight among automobiles, and she found it relatively easy to manipulate. She pushed it carefully up onto the passenger side, not wanting to take a chance with Martha still on the other side, and then on over so that the undercarriage was falling earthward. Then, allowing her most esoteric ability to well up from inside, she shot up and over the vehicle, landing on the other side and catching it before it could hit the ground. She gave a grunt of effort as the full weight hit her, and then carefully lowered the Escort onto it's wheels.

Once the vehicle was down, she ran back around to the driver's door and, sinking her fingers into the metal as if it were tin foil, ripped the door off and tossed it aside. Then, as she was examining the damage to the driver's side, trying to figure the best way to extract Martha, she caught both the heavy scent of leaking gasoline and the hissing sound it made as it hit the hot exhaust system under the vehicle. She bit her lip then, and said, "Mrs. Kent, I'm gonna try to make this as quick as possible; we probably don't have much time!" With that, she went for the direct approach.

First, she grabbed the steering wheel itself and yanked upward with all her might. The steering column bent with a rending shriek, and the wheel came off in her hands with a metallic pop, which was just about what she'd hoped for. Next, she reached down and, sinking her fingers into the lower edge of the dash assembly, pulled upward carefully. As she'd hoped, it gave with little trouble, and within a few seconds she had Martha's legs free and clear. Unfortunately, by this time she could smell smoke, and flames were becoming visible underneath the car; she knew that her time had just about run out.

Desperately, she reached down to pop Martha's seatbelt loose, but the mechanism was jammed. Cursing, she took hold of the buckle and yanked at it, ripping the mechanism apart with her bare hand. Then, with a hasty, "Hang on, Mrs. Kent!" she scooped Martha up in her arms, turned, and, allowing her power of flight to surge up once more, skimmed away from the car at high speed, her toes just inches above the ground. Before she'd covered fifty feet, there was a titanic explosion as the fire finally got to the half-empty fuel tank, igniting the vapors inside. Talia pitched forward immediately, covering as much of Martha's body with her own as possible, only praying that it would be enough for her to escape serious injury as the blast washed over them.

Back in the blue sedan, the black-suited man held his palmtop, tapping controls occasionally as different aspects of the drama unfolding in the field in front of him caught his interest. Then, as he watched the smoke clear after the blast, he was interrupted by the electronic buzzing of his cell phone. Raising an eyebrow, he reached into his jacket, slipped it out and, hitting the 'Send' key said, "Go."

"Lost the drone," the voice of the gray-clad man said on the other end. "It was clear; must've been shrapnel from the blast."

The black-clad man frowned and said, "How far out did it get?"

"About fifty meters," the other replied. "It'd just made it into some brush at the edge of that copse of trees when I lost it."

The black-suited man nodded and said, "Doesn't matter. Should be out of sight for the time being, and we can come back and sanitize later. I'm breaking contact for now; we need to review and collate before we report to higher. This one's even hotter than we thought."

As soon as she felt the searing wave of heat and concussion blow past, Talia looked back quickly, trying to gauge the likelihood of an immediate secondary explosion. When none seemed forthcoming, she rolled off Martha and, staring at her anxiously said, "Are you okay, Mrs. Kent?"

Putting a hand to her head slowly, Martha looked to Talia and said, "My neck hurts, my legs hurt, and I've got a pounding headache, but other than that… well, I guess I'll know for sure once I get checked out by a doctor." Then, concern furrowing her brow, Martha said, "What about you, Talia? Are you alright?"

Smiling wanly, Talia said, "You know the deal, Mrs. Kent. I'm fine, of course." Then, with a deep sigh, she added, "But your car sure isn't. This is a great way to cap the day, isn't it?"

"Talia," Martha said in a very serious tone, "Forget about the car. It's only a thing; it can be replaced. Our lives can't, and it looks like you just saved mine. Thank you, honey."

Talia flushed and said, "You don't have to thank me, Mrs. Kent. You'd have done the same for me."

"Still," Martha said, "the very least I owe you is a 'thank you'."

"If you say so, Mrs. Kent," Talia said. "But it's enough for me that you're alright." Then, smiling mischievously, she added, "You're way too cool a lady to have anything happen to you. And I'm sure you've got a husband and a son who'd agree."

Martha started to laugh, winced as her throbbing head protested, and then said, "Speaking of which, we'd probably better try to get a hold of them. Right after we get a hold of the sheriff, that is."

Talia grimaced and said, "That might be kind of hard, Mrs. Kent. Wasn't your phone in your purse?"

Looking back at the burning wreck, Martha sighed and said, "Unfortunately." Then, perking up, she said, "But, believe it or not, a cell phone is a luxury, not a necessity. There must be a phone somewhere around here."

As she said this, they both heard a car, a rather hot one by the sound, come roaring up the road, and, as it came within sight of them, screech to a halt. Looking toward the roadway, Talia saw a good looking, well-dressed and curiously hairless young man jump out of a silver Porsche and come running in their direction.

"Well," Talia said slowly, "I don't think we have to worry about that now. There's some bald guy on his way over here as we speak, and I don't think anybody who dresses like that would be without a cell."

Martha heaved a sigh and, forcing herself up a bit to look in his direction, muttered, "Great. _Now_ the day's just perfect."

Cocking her head just slightly, Talia said, "You know this guy, Mrs. Kent?"

But before she could answer, the young man came pelting up, concern written large on his face, and he exclaimed, "Mrs. Kent! What happened? Are you alright?"

Looking up at the newcomer, Martha said in a wan voice, "Well, I've been better, Lex. But all things considered, I'd have to say I'm lucky not to be a whole lot worse."

Relaxing visibly, he knelt down beside Martha and said, "I'm glad to hear that, Mrs. Kent. Is there anything I can do?"

"I'd appreciate it if you could call the sheriff's office, Lex," she said, and, looking toward the wreck added wryly, "I seem to be having a little trouble with my phone right now."

Smiling his sly smile, Lex said, "_Now_ I know you're alright, Mrs. Kent."

She smiled in return and then said, "Also, if you don't mind, once you've called the sheriff, I'd like to borrow your phone for a minute. I need to call Clark and Jonathan and let them know what's happened. I need to tell them that Talia and I are alright before they get a call from the sheriff."

Quirking an eyebrow as he dialed, Lex looked to Talia and said, "So you're the mysterious Talia." Then, extending his free hand as he put the phone to his ear, he said, "I'm Lex. Lex Luthor. And I've just been dying to have a word with you all day…"

_Well, end of chapter 4, and where do things go from here? Find out in chapter 5, 'Suspicions' later this week! For now, please review; your comments and suggestions are of immense help to me, and I enjoy hearing your feedback._


	5. Suspicions

**New Girl in Town**

**By SSG Michael B. Jackson**

_Disclaimer: I don't own a damned thing to do with Smallville, to include any of the DC Comics characters portrayed. Hell, most of them have been around since before my parents were born, so how could I? Anyway, there's no money in this for me; I only want to have a little fun and maybe entertain a few other people as well, so enjoy and please don't sue me. I'm a poor soldier with four kids, so you wouldn't get much anyway!_

Quirking an eyebrow as he dialed, Lex looked to Talia and said, "So you're the mysterious Talia." Then, extending his free hand as he put the phone to his ear, he said, "I'm Lex. Lex Luthor. And I've just been dying to have a word with you all day…"

A half-hour later, very little talking had gotten done, but a lot else had. Fire, rescue, and police units were on site, and everything was fairly well under control. The blazing remains of the Escort had been extinguished, Martha and, reluctantly, Talia had been checked out by the paramedics, and a sheriff's deputy was bustling around the scene, making measurements, taking photos, and conducting interviews by turns. Jonathan and Clark had shown up as well, both of them practically beside themselves with worry until the paramedics had blessed off on Martha, telling her merely that she should make an appointment with her doctor for a more thorough checkup as soon as possible. Lex, for his part, had sort of bounced from one thing to another, and hadn't had any real chance to pursue a conversation with either Talia or Clark. And that was where things stood when Chloe rolled up in her little red Volkswagen.

Excusing himself momentarily, Clark walked over to meet her as she dismounted near the road and headed in their direction. Meeting her halfway, he said, "Chloe. What're you doing here?"

"Well," she said, "at the risk of being labeled an ambulance chaser, it was kind of hard not to notice all the lights and sirens in a town as massive as Smallville. When I realized they were all headed out toward your place, I got a little worried, so…"

"So you decided to see what all the commotion was for yourself," Clark finished matter-of-factly.

Chloe nodded and said, "Yeah, something like that." Then, frowning with concern, she said, "So what happened, Clark? Is everybody okay?"

Clark sighed and said, "Mom had a little accident. Front tire blew and the car went off the road. It rolled a couple of times and ended up out there in the middle of the field. After that, I guess the gas tank started leaking, and… well, you can figure out the rest."

"Oh, my God," Chloe said, aghast. "Your mom, is she-"

"She's fine," Clark said evenly. "She and Talia made it out okay. Just a miracle, I guess…"

Cocking her head slightly, Chloe said, "One of those 'Clark Kent just happened to be in the neighborhood' miracles?"

"Not this time," Clark said flatly. "I was still at school when I got Mom's call, and everything was over by then. By the time I made it out here, the fire department and the sheriff's deputy were already on scene."

"Wow," Chloe said wryly. "A bonafide non-Clark Kent miracle. Now that's news; for Smallville, anyway."

When Clark had no immediate reply for this, Chloe finally broke the silence with, "And all this because of a bad tire. You might want to recommend a little more regular maintenance to your folks, Clark. I know you farm types like to do your own work and all, but-"

"That's not it, Chloe," Clark said slowly. "Those tires weren't brand new, but they weren't worn out either. Mom had the winter tires taken off and these put on down at the tire shop just a few months ago. And besides; Dad checks all that stuff regularly. If anything obvious was wrong with one of the tires, he wouldn't let Mom just drive off on it."

"Okay," Chloe said, "Bad luck then, not a bad tire. But, forgive me for saying, your mom must've been really haulin' to end up way out there."

"Just the speed limit, according to her," Clark said. Then, frowning, he added, "Of course, having the brakes fail on you as soon as an emergency hits doesn't help matters any."

"Whoa, wait a minute!" Chloe exclaimed. "Are you telling me that on top of an out-of-the-blue blow-out, your mom's car just _happened_ to have a brake failure at the same time? Isn't that just a little too coincidental to _be_ coincidental?"

Still frowning, Clark said, "What are you getting at, Chloe?"

"What am I getting at?" she said incredulously. "C'mon, Clark, you connect the dots! If the maintenance on that car was as good as you say it was, what're the odds of two catastrophic failures like that happening at the same time? By themselves, that is."

Clark rolled his eyes and said, "Oh, come on Chloe. Are you saying that you think somebody sabotaged my mom's car?"

"You got a better explanation?" she said flatly.

"Who'd want to hurt my mom, Chloe?" he countered. "I can't think of any candidates off the top of my head. Can you?"

Shaking her head slowly, Chloe said, "Just because you and I can't think of anybody doesn't necessarily mean there is nobody." Then, looking at Talia where she stood talking to the sheriff's deputy, she said, "And, in a situation like this, the first thing you've got to ask yourself is: What's the new variable in the equation?"

"Now wait a minute," Clark said, following her gaze. "You're not saying that you think-"

"That the new girl over there had something to do with this?" Chloe finished for him, and then, after considering for a moment, "I don't know, Clark. But it wouldn't be the first time weirdness followed a new face into town. Or had you forgotten about Adam?"

Clark sighed and said, "Alright, point taken, Chloe. But I don't think Talia is another Adam Knight."

"Or an Emily Dinsmore or a Mikhail Mxyzptlk?" Chloe said a bit skeptically. "You've gotta admit, Clark, our track record hasn't been so good up 'til now. How can you be so sure that she's different?"

Frowning, Clark said, "I guess… I can't be. Not a hundred percent. But my gut feeling is that she's not like that."

"I sure hope you're right, Clark," Chloe said slowly. "Because if not… It's your roof she's staying under."

The situation being what it was, it wasn't too hard to put Lex off a little longer. Obviously, he wasn't exactly happy to have both Clark and Talia right in front of him and not have the opportunity to talk over the previous evening, but he couldn't really argue when more than one person told him it just wasn't the right time. He finally contented himself with securing Clark's promise to come by the mansion with Talia sometime in the next couple of days, but, even so, he left feeling not quite satisfied.

For their part, once all was said and done, the Kent family found themselves short a seat in the old Dodge Ram when it came time to finally head home. There were any number of solutions available for this dilemma, but it was Chloe who finally solved it by abruptly offering Talia a ride in her VW. When Clark gave her an odd look, she just winked and, making sure that she was out of Talia's line of sight, mouthed the words, 'Talk to your mom.' After weighing everything in his mind for a moment, Clark decided that was as good an idea as any. He very much needed to find out exactly what had actually happened, and he was reasonably sure that Talia was capable of sidestepping around Chloe's curiosity, for the time being at least.

Once they'd taken off, Jonathan at the wheel, Clark turned to Martha and said, "Alright, Mom; it's just us now. What really happened?"

"Well," Martha said thoughtfully, "It was pretty much just what I told the deputy. The tire blew, we went off the road, rolled a whole bunch of times, and ended up out in the middle of that field. I was sort of half out of it, and Talia pulled me out of the car before it blew up." Then, after a short pause, she said, "There's a little more to it than that, of course."

Raising an eyebrow, Jonathan said, "Well don't keep us in suspense, Martha. What else happened?"

Frowning thoughtfully, Martha said, "When the car came to rest, it was upside down, not right side up like they found it. The dash had been mangled, and my legs were trapped underneath; that's where I got some of those bruises they were so curious about."

"Let me guess," Clark said. "Talia got you loose?"

Martha nodded and said, "First she turned the car over, so it'd be easier to work, I guess. Then, after she ripped the door off with her bare hands, she bent the steering column up, popped the steering wheel off, and pried the dash off my legs. After that, she carried me away from the car and covered me with her body when the gas tank went up. We were only maybe fifty feet away, and I'm sure at least the edge of the blast caught us." After pausing for a moment, Martha looked to Clark and, with a small smile said, "It was kind of like having you there, Clark."

Frowning slightly, Clark said, "One thing I'm curious about, Mom. You told the deputy that you hit the brakes after the tire blew, and the pedal went straight to the floor, right?"

Martha nodded and said, "That's right. And those brakes picked a wonderful time to go out, let me tell you."

Nodding slowly, Clark said, "Yeah, Mom, that's what Chloe and I were thinking too. The timing was great; just a little bit too great, actually."

Frowning, Jonathan said, "What're you thinking, Son? That somebody messed with your mother's car?"

Clark sighed, and said, "Well you gotta admit, Dad, it's awfully convenient that the brakes just happened to fail when they were needed most. And it wasn't like there was any warning, right Mom? They didn't go spongy or start acting weird before the tire blew, did they?"

Cocking her head slightly, Martha said, "You know, now that you mention it, they did feel a little funny after we left the courthouse. Like you said; spongy, somehow. I remember thinking that I should have your father take a look at them once we got home."

"After you left the courthouse," Clark said slowly. "Not before that? Not while you were driving around town or after you left the Talon?"

Shaking her head, Martha said, "No. I didn't notice anything then."

"Well, okay," Clark said. "How about at the courthouse, then? Did you notice anything while you were there? Anybody hanging out around the car or messing with it? Anything like that?"

Martha started to shake her head, and then, a certain mental image leaping to her mind's eye, put a hand to her mouth and blanched visibly.

Seeing this, Clark put a hand on her shoulder, concerned, and said, "What is it, Mom? What's wrong?"

"Talia," Martha said reluctantly. "She had… a disagreement with Sheriff Adams, and she went outside. After I had a few words with the sheriff, I went out to get her and-"

"And what, Mom?" Clark said warily.

Sighing, Martha said, "And when I went out there, Talia was over holding one side of the car almost a foot off the ground, looking around underneath. I asked her what she was doing, and she told me that she'd heard something under there. Obviously, I was a lot more concerned with the fact that she'd just lifted up a car in the middle of a public parking lot than anything else, but now-"

"Now you've just got to wonder," Clark said tiredly. "What are the odds of that and the accident being totally unconnected?"

Talia was more than a little relieved when they pulled up in front of the Kent house. She'd spent the trip home politely dodging a number of odd questions from Chloe, and to say that she felt less than comfortable around Smallville's most dedicated investigative reporter was an understatement. Hardly even waiting for the VW to come to a stop, she jumped out with a quick, "Thanks for the ride!" and headed toward the Kents as they dismounted the old Dodge Ram. She was brought up short, however, by the guarded and wary expressions on their faces.

"Uh, something wrong?" she said tentatively as she reached the old pick-up.

"We need to talk, Talia," Clark said in an authoritative tone she hadn't heard from him before. "Just you and me," he added, motioning toward the barn.

"Clark-" Jonathan began, only to be cut off by Clark as he shook his head and said in a low tone, "Let me handle this, Dad. Just in case." Then, looking to Chloe, who'd just walked up a few paces behind Talia, he said, "Chloe. Thanks for giving us a hand. I'll give you a call later."

The hint was obvious, and, though she was sorely tempted to do otherwise, Chloe decided to play it Clark's way for the time being. She wasn't exactly sure what he had in mind, but she figured she'd give him space to operate, for now at least. That being the case, she turned and, with a quick, "No problem, Clark. See you later, Mr. and Mrs. Kent," headed back to her car.

As Chloe headed back up the drive, Talia looked warily from Clark to his parents and said, "Okay, what's going on here? Did I miss something, or what?"

Stepping forward, Clark put a hand lightly on Talia's arm and, motioning once more toward the barn said, "Come on. Let's go talk."

Talia briefly considered protesting, but then decided to just go along; she'd ruffled enough feathers for one day already, she figured, and, for the foreseeable future at least, she'd be staying with the Kents. Their good will was a must.

As soon as they stepped inside the barn, Talia turned to Clark and said, "Okay, we're here now. What the hell's going on?"

Wearing a grim, determined expression that only fueled Talia's unease, Clark said, "What were you doing with Mom's car out in the courthouse parking lot? She said she saw you lifting it up and doing something underneath."

For a moment Talia was struck speechless, first by sheer puzzlement, then, as comprehension dawned on her, by shock and disbelief. Finally, finding her voice, she stammered, "Ohmygod! You- you think I- you think I'd-!"

Raising an eyebrow, Clark said unwaveringly, "Did you?"

Talia stood thunderstruck for a moment, unable even to begin to formulate a reply. Then, anger flaring to life inside her, she said, "Did I what, Clark! Screw with your mom's car? Set things up somehow to kick off a potentially fatal crash just so I could play the hero?"

His tone still unrelenting, Clark said, "You said it, not me. So did you?"

Shaking her head slowly, Talia said, "I can't believe you're even asking me this! My God, Clark, is that how I've come across to you? As the kind of person who'd do something like that?"

"Talia," Clark said matter-of-factly, "The truth is, I hardly even know you. Period. You dropped into my lap literally out of nowhere just last night with one of the wildest stories I've ever heard, and now this happens after Mom saw you doing something to the car. What am I supposed to think?"

"Maybe," Talia said very slowly and deliberately, "You should think that I was telling your mom the truth when I said I heard something under there. That I lifted the car up to see what was making that weird scratching noise. Maybe that's what you should think."

"Alright," Clark said, "Let's go with that then. What do you think it was? Did you see anything under there?"

"No," Talia said reluctantly, "I couldn't see anything. And the noise stopped as soon as I bent down to take a look. I… don't have a clue what could've been making it."

Nodding slowly, Clark said, "Right. So if you were in my shoes, what would you think?"

Sighing loudly, Talia said, "I guess I'd think the whole thing was pretty fishy. That maybe I was making up the noise thing to cover whatever the real reason was for me lifting the car up." And then, a pleading note in her voice, she said, "But that's not how it was, Clark! I'm not making anything up! And hurting you mom is the last thing in the world I'd want to do! Like I told her, she's way too cool to have anything bad happen to her!"

His expression softening slightly, Clark said, "Talia, I- I want to believe you. Really I do. But you have to understand, a lot of weird things have happened around here in the past. A lot of people have turned out not to be what they seemed to be, and other people, people I care about, have been hurt. After all of that, it's kind of hard to just take a chance on somebody again."

Talia sighed, and said, "I guess I can understand that, Clark. And I'm sorry that I got dumped on you and your family along with all my issues." She paused for a moment, considering, and then continued in a leaden voice. "It all seemed like such a good idea last night, but now- now I think maybe I should just go. You guys obviously have more than enough going on without adding me to the mix."

"Now hold on a minute," Clark said, concern suddenly coloring his tone. "What do you mean 'go', Talia? You're just a kid; where exactly are you gonna go _to_?"

Shaking her head, Talia said in a bittersweet tone, "Oh, c'mon, Clark, you know the score. It's not like I'm a normal fourteen year-old or anything. I can take care of myself, and I can set up shop just about anywhere in the world I want to. I'm sure I'll do… just fine."

His mouth compressed into a hard line, Clark said, "Oh, I'm sure you will, Talia. I don't doubt you can take care of all your physical needs, one way or another. Probably not legally, though."

"Clark," Talia began in a conciliatory tone, only to be overridden as he pushed on ahead.

"But no matter how well you take care of yourself, you'll still be all alone. And however powerful you are, Talia, you're still just a teenager. Trust me when I say, the next few years are going to be some of the roughest in your life. You're gonna have a helluva time getting through them without friends to cover your back and a couple of rock-solid adults to pull you back on track when you start wandering astray. Is that how you want things to be?"

"No!" Talia yelled in sudden frustration. "That's not how I want things to be, Clark! But what exactly the hell is it you want me to do! If you can't trust me, there's no way I can stay here, and sure as hell I'm not going to let the sheriff shuffle me off into the foster care system! For that matter, if you really believe I'm dangerous or whatever, what do you plan on doing? Are you gonna pop out with some of those powers you've been denying you have, go from 'Norman Rockwell' to 'Norman Bates', and put me in a shallow grave out there in the cow pasture? Is that what you've got in mind?"

"No!" Clark said, vaguely horrified by the notion. "We're not like that, Talia!"

"Well," she said, a quaver in her voice, "Whether you believe it or not, neither am I! And I would never put someone's life at risk just to make myself look good in their eyes! Especially not someone who's been as good to me as your mom has, Clark."

He stood stolidly for a moment more, his gaze seeming almost to bore through Talia as he weighed everything in his mind. In the end, though, it was a simple decision; trust her or don't. Either way, there were bound to be consequences, both immediate and unforeseeable, and they'd just have to be dealt with as they arose. Clark's gut instinct, his most basic assessment of the person before him, told him that she was trustworthy, the incident in the courthouse parking lot notwithstanding. And, finally, it was this appraisal that won out.

Relaxing from a posture that had unconsciously become almost defensive, Clark said, "I believe you, Talia. And I'm sorry that I accused you like I did."

Talia almost visibly sagged with relief for just a second, and then, regaining both her composure and her pride said, "Well, apology accepted, I guess." Then, her bravado crumbling, she came forward and, putting a hand on Clark's arm said quietly, "Thank you for trusting me, Clark. It… means a lot."

Smiling, he said, "Well, you've got to start somewhere, I guess. And this seems like the right place."

After a moment's silence, Talia said, "Okay, then. What now?"

"Now," Clark said slowly, "We go and let Mom and Dad know what the score is. I'm sure that they're awfully curious about what's going on in here."

Talia nodded slowly and said, "Yeah. Hopefully they're taking it as a good sign that nobody's gone through a wall or anything yet."

"Hopefully," Clark said, still smiling, and then, "After that… Well, you tell me, Talia. We just established that you didn't have anything to do with the accident, but do you really think it was _just_ an accident?"

Shaking her head slowly, Talia said, "Not really. I've been thinking about it ever since it happened and… I just don't believe it. It's too big a coincidence for the brakes to fail like that right after a blow-out. And when you add whatever I heard under the car to that…"

"It adds up to something not being right with this," Clark said flatly.

Talia nodded and said, "Exactly."

"Which is why," Clark said smoothly, "as soon as we get done with Mom and Dad, you and I are going back out to take a better look at that accident scene."

Jonathan and Martha were both more than an little relieved to see Clark and Talia come out of the barn not only whole, but apparently in good spirits as well. As they approached, Jonathan looked to Clark and said, "I take it that went well."

Clark nodded and said, "You could say that, Dad. We hashed some things out, and… well, I'm sure that Talia didn't have anything to do with the accident. That's what she says, and I believe her."

Cocking his head slightly, Jonathan said, "Really." Then, looking to Talia, he said, "I guess whatever you said must've been pretty convincing, huh?"

"I only told Clark the truth, Mr. Kent," she said quietly. "I told him that there was no way I'd ever risk anyone's life just to make myself look good." Then, looking to Martha, she added in an even lower tone, "Especially not somebody I care about."

A soft smile on her face, Martha stepped forward and, taking Talia's hands in hers said, "I don't know about you, Jonathan, but I'm willing to accept that."

Nodding slowly, he said, "I trust Clark's judgment. And yours, dear." Then, looking to Talia he said, "So what do you think really happened, then? You figure it was just an accident after all?"

Shaking her head, Talia said, "No, Mr. Kent, I don't, and neither does Clark. We talked it over in the barn, and-"

"And it still doesn't make any sense." Clark finished for her. "The odds are that somebody did something to that car, and since it wasn't Talia, we need to figure out who it was."

"How do you plan on doing that?" Jonathan asked flatly.

"Well, first," Clark said, "We need to check out the accident scene again. I don't know what we might find, but it's the logical place to start. After that… we'll just have to see, I guess."

By the time they rolled back up to the break Martha's Escort had made in the old rail fence, dusk was fast approaching. Parking just off the road, they dismounted and started retracing the path of destruction in toward where the still-cooling hulk of the burned out Escort rested. Thanks to the deputy's decision, based on safety considerations, it would be there until at least the next day, so they figured they'd have ample opportunity to study it.

"So," Talia said. "Any idea where to start?"

"I guess we can check out the car first, and then sort of spiral out from there," Clark said a bit uncertainly. "Didn't you get any experience doing stuff like this working with the government back home?"

"Only a little," Talia said. "Investigations and forensics weren't my area of expertise. Not yet, anyway. My job was pretty much muscle-work at the stage I was at. A couple more years, a little more training and field experience, and who knows? But I'd only been with Section Zero for a little over a year when all this happened."

"See now," Clark said as they approached the wrecked Escort, "That's the part I don't get. You're saying that you were recruited by a government agency of some sort when you were thirteen years old? What kind of world do you come from, Talia?"

Talia sighed, and said, "The same kind of world where the FBI will recruit teenaged hackers and crackers if they need them, Clark. The truth is, it's all pretty complicated, and I've been working above my level for a while now. But there's been a lot going on the last couple of years where I'm from; terrorists all over the place, wannabe world-beaters coming out of the woodwork, monolithic secret societies backing the terrorists _and_ the world-beaters to further their own agendas… I guess when things got that out of hand, the government couldn't afford to turn away talent, no matter how young."

Shaking his head slowly, Clark said, "Sounds pretty out of control, all right. But your folks were okay with all this?"

"Well," Talia said slowly, "I'm not sure 'okay' would be the right word. But you've got to understand, teen super-teams have a long history back home, and that's the background both of them came from. Their team was sort of quasi-government sponsored, so that made it a little easier for them to accept what I wanted to do, but… well, Section Zero is just a whole different animal. They grew up back in that four-color tights and spandex era, with all the hokey code-names and the crazy villains who never quite seemed to get around to killing the good guys. They just figured Section Zero was something like their old team, more of a school for super-powered misfits than anything else. I knew better, but… well, it was something I really wanted to do, so…"

"You let your parents keep thinking that Section Zero was something that it wasn't," Clark said flatly.

Talia nodded and said, "Yeah. Of course I knew that couldn't last forever, and to say that sparks flew when they found out… well, that would be an understatement. That's one of the reasons I was down to reserve status when this happened. That and, after a year of playing in Section Zero's world, I was kind of ready to try out 'normal' again for a while. I just sort of needed to decompress, I guess you could say."

Clark gave a small snort and said, "Well, I hate to say it, but if that's what you were after, Smallville probably isn't the best place you could've ended up. Despite that 'Norman Rockwell' façade you already noticed, Smallville is probably one of the least 'normal' places you're ever likely to find."

Putting a hand on the burnt out wreck they'd come to examine, Talia said, "Yeah, I'm starting to see that. And this so-called accident just sort of reinforces the impression."

Instead of commenting, Clark just studied the wreck intently, letting his x-ray gaze penetrate it layer by layer. He paid special attention to the front end, scrutinizing what was left of the braking system and the right front tire closely. He quickly found this to be futile, however; everything had been too thoroughly burned and blasted to leave behind anything he could recognize as a clue.

"Yeah," Clark finally said distractedly, then, "Tell you what; why don't you take a closer look at the car while I walk around and take a better look at the area here. Maybe something that'll help us got blown off when the gas tank went up."

Talia shrugged and said, "Sounds as good as anything else, I guess." With that, she turned and began to examine the vehicle meticulously, starting at the front end and working back.

For his part, Clark began to walk slowly around the area, sweeping his enhanced senses over everything. He found all sorts of random fragments of metal and plastic scattered around, far more than were visible to the normal human eye, but nothing that jumped out and grabbed him as unusual. Until he neared a small copse of trees maybe fifty yards from the burnt out hulk of the Escort.

As he swept his x-ray vision across the trees, he immediately noticed a relatively large mass of oddly shaped metal in the brush near their edge. Focusing on this, he moved a bit closer, and felt his eyebrows raise in surprise as the shape of the thing became clearer. Finally, he knelt down, pushed the brush aside, and got a good look at the thing.

"Hey Talia!" He yelled. "I think you should come have a look at this!"

"What is it?" She yelled back from where she stood still examining the wrecked Escort.

"I think," he said slowly, "I just found our smoking gun."

_Okay, end of chapter 5, and things are starting to get even more complicated. Clark and Talia have a clue to work with now, but what exactly will this clue lead them into? Find out in a few days in chapter 6, "Layers of Deception". Also, as always, please take a little time to review. After all, if you don't, how do I know that anyone's even reading this? And if no one is, there wouldn't be much point in continuing to write it, now would there?_


	6. Layers of Deception

**New Girl in Town**

**By SSG Michael B. Jackson**

_Disclaimer: I don't own a damned thing to do with Smallville, to include any of the DC Comics characters portrayed. Hell, most of them have been around since before my parents were born, so how could I? Anyway, there's no money in this for me; I only want to have a little fun and maybe entertain a few other people as well, so enjoy and please don't sue me. I'm a poor soldier with four kids, so you wouldn't get much anyway!_

Dropping her scrutiny of the wreck, Talia jogged over to where Clark knelt. Following his gaze, she saw the thing that'd caught his attention and, frowning, said, "Huh! What the heck do you make of that?"

Staring intently at the inert mechanical form in front of him, Clark said, "Beats me. Looks more like a robot tarantula than anything else. Or maybe a prop from some Sci-Fi Channel show. Either way, what're the odds of this thing just happening to turn up at the site of a suspicious accident?"

Nodding slowly, Talia said, "The scratching sound I heard under the car. That'd be just about what I'd expect this thing to make scuttling around under there."

"Yeah," Clark said, "And somehow I don't doubt that once we take a better look at this thing, we'll find all the little attachments it probably needed to monkey with the brakes and the front tire."

"No bet on that one," Talia said slowly, and then, "So! Shall we?" With that, she reached down toward the drone, intending to scoop it up, but before she could, Clark's hand shot out with surprising speed and strength, catching her wrist and stopping her dead.

"Whoa!" He said quickly. "Hold up, Talia. There's no telling if this thing's dangerous or not. It could have all kinds of anti-tampering devices or it might even just be playing possum. I know you're tough, but why take chances?"

Looking down at Clark's hand on her arm, Talia said, "You might have a point there, Clark, and you definitely have one helluva grip."

Letting go hastily, Clark said, "Well, I was just worried, that's all."

Shaking her head slowly, Talia said, "You stopped my arm cold, Clark. I wasn't expecting you to grab me, so I wasn't doing anything to 'tone down' my own strength. If a normal person had done what you just did, I'd have accidentally yanked them flat onto their face, especially as unbalanced as you are on one knee right now. So go ahead; tell me that you got that strong pounding in fence posts and chucking hay bales."

Clark sighed, and said, "Look, Talia, I-" He stopped, not knowing quite what to say, and then continued with, "I know that you've already noticed a couple of things about me that you don't think are exactly normal, but- The truth is, I'm just not comfortable talking about this. I-"

"Clark," Talia said compassionately, "I understand about keeping secrets. My whole life has been one big bundle of secrets, both my parents' and my own. I know what it's like to be different from other people, to be special, and to have to keep that to yourself. I know what it's like to be just bursting to tell somebody what you can do, or to be able to show off just a little bit, but to be afraid that if you do your whole life will change and nothing will ever be the same again." She paused for a moment, considering, and then said, "But there's something I figured out along the way, Clark; you can get so wrapped up in all those secrets that they take over your life. I've never lived in the same place for more than a couple of years in a row, all because Mom and Dad were so worried about their past catching up to them. I didn't even find out what my parents used to do for a living until I started manifesting powers myself, and let me tell you, that's an earth-shattering experience for an eight-year-old. I understand why my parents did things the way they did, but I'd be lying if I said I'd quite forgiven them, even now." Then, with a sigh, she said, "Anyway, I guess the point of all that is, you've got to draw a line somewhere. There's a point where it's more destructive to you and the people you care about to keep a secret than to let it go, and you've got to figure out where that point is." Then, a bit sheepishly, she added, "Uh, rant complete, I guess."

Clark was silent for a moment, digesting this, and then he said, "I understand where you're coming from, Talia, and you probably have a point, but- Sometimes something you've held onto your whole life can be really hard to let go of. Even when you want to, even when you think it might be better to. It's like holding Pandora's Box in your hands; you know that if you open it up, all sorts of things are going to come flying out, and there's no way you can ever put them all back in again. So it seems safer in the end to just leave it closed, I guess, even if that means turning people away from you."

Talia nodded slowly, and said, "I can understand that too, Clark. But Pandora's Box is something that's either open or closed; there's no halfway. Once the catch is thrown, and people see that there's something inside, they'll keep prying until the box is either wide open or it's been slammed shut on their fingers. How many sets of fingers have you already had to bruise, Clark?"

Clark sighed, and said, "A few."

Placing a hand on Clark's arm, Talia said, "Well then, let me pull mine out of the way. Your secrets are your business, and I certainly don't have any right to pry. But it does look like we may be living under the same roof for a while, so it could get really tedious pretending to be something you're not, even at home. I can understand if it takes you a while to let your hair down, so to speak; old habits die hard. But don't be afraid to be yourself around me, Clark; if anybody can understand, I can."

"I'll… keep that in mind," Clark said slowly. Then, returning his attention to the belated task at hand, he said, "But all that really doesn't have much to do with weird metal insects, does it?"

"Not really," Talia said with a small smile. Then, frowning slightly, she said, "So what're we going to do with this thing if we don't dare touch it? Five'll get you ten that if we leave it here, it'll be gone by morning."

"Y'know," Clark said, raising an eyebrow thoughtfully, "Actually that gives me an idea."

In an unremarkable motel room on the edge of town, two familiar figures, one in black slacks, one in gray, both with jackets off, sat before a deskful of apparently ordinary electronic devices. The black-clad man's palmtop had been docked up to what appeared to be a midrange laptop, and several other implements, including a cell phone and something that looked very much like a digital video camera were plugged in as well. Both were intent on the images that played across the laptop's screen, an edited, narrated, and annotated video of the car crash and subsequent events, recorded earlier that day. Finally, satisfied that their several hours of work had resulted in a sufficiently polished product, the black-suited man shut off the display and said, "Looks decent. I'll send it up while you take care of that other piece of business."

The gray-clad man nodded once and said, "Sounds good." Then, turning toward the bathroom as he heard the toilet flush and the door open, he said, "You ready to roll?"

Stepping from the bathroom, a not-unattractive but rather unremarkable thirtyish woman in a non-descript blue pantsuit replied, "Whenever you are." Then, smiling just slightly, she added, "Don't worry; I've got your back."

Back at the accident site, Clark and Talia stood, crouched, a few yards back in the copse of trees in what they hoped was a concealed position. They'd been there for almost two hours, ever since they'd moved the truck a few hundred yards up the road and backed it in on a small dirt side-road. Swatting at the umpteenth bug of the evening, Talia said in a stage whisper, "Okay, Clark, this was fine for the first hour, but it's starting to get real old real fast. How long do you plan on waiting around to see if anybody shows?"

"As long as it takes, I guess," Clark said in a tone of mild irritation. "If nobody shows within a couple more hours, I suppose we can just try and figure a way to move that thing safely and take it with us. But if somebody does come looking for it, I want to see who it is."

"And then what?" Talia said, just a bit exasperated. "As I recall, that's the point where the plan gets a little fuzzy."

Clark shrugged and then said, "Well, like I said, I guess we'll just have to see. It kind of depends on who comes for the thing, now doesn't it?"

Shaking her head slightly, Talia said, "I suppose so. But still-"

"Shhh!" Clark exclaimed suddenly. "I just heard a car pull off the road! Somebody's coming!"

And sure enough, from the direction of the broken rail fence, they saw, dimly illuminated by the wan light of a quarter moon, the silhouette of a man approaching the clump of trees where they hid. They crouched a bit lower as he neared, scarcely daring to breathe for fear of spooking him before they were sure of his intent.

Finally, the man, clad in a non-descript gray business suit, they could see now, reached the edge of the trees and, staring at some small device he held in one hand, moved unerringly toward where the dead metallic insect lay. As he reached it, Talia unconsciously leaned forward just slightly, shifting her weight just enough to snap a small twig she'd been standing on all along. In the otherwise silent night, the small crack rang out like a gunshot and the gray-clad man's head snapped around in Talia's direction.

"Who's there!" he exclaimed, his free hand darting into his jacket.

Sighing, Talia thought, 'Way to go, Porter. Subtle as a freight train, as usual. Oh, well, might as well go with it now, I guess.'

With that thought, Talia stepped forward, deliberately leaving her cover. She strode forward in a confident, almost cocky manner, and, as the gray-clad man backed up a couple of steps warily, hand still inside his jacket, she said, "Who wants to know?"

The gray-suited man felt a thrill of mixed fear and excitement run down his spine as he recognized none other than their potentially extremely dangerous target in front of him, but the only outward sign he gave was a slight tensing of his shoulders. In an even, reasonable voice, he said, "Federal agent, kid. Aren't you out a little late?"

Cocking her head slightly and continuing to saunter in the gray-clad man's direction, Talia replied in an off-hand, almost playful tone, "Oh, I was on my way home earlier, but the darndest thing happened; I ended up in the middle of a car wreck! And then- this is even funnier, by the way- when I came back here looking around, I found this weird, robotic insect just lying here in the brush next to the accident scene! And I asked myself, Mister; what were the odds of the two things _not _being connected somehow? So I figured I'd just kick back and see if anybody came back to claim the thing. And guess what?" She paused then for just a moment before finishing in a dark tone, "Here you are."

The gray-suited man was silent for a moment after this, considering, apparently, and, still hiding back in the brush, Clark was doing his best to contain himself. He wasn't sure exactly what he wanted to do, but staying hidden, playing silent back-up now that Talia had jumped the gun, definitely wasn't it. Still, he told himself, for the moment it was probably the best thing he could do. At least until he saw where things were headed.

For his part, the gray-clad man finally spoke up, a slight smile curving his lips as he said, "Well, I don't know anything about a car wreck, kid, other than that burned out hulk I saw coming over here. But that drone you're talking about- Well, it's like this. I'm with the EPA, the Environmental Protection Agency, and that thing is an experimental monitoring and sampling unit we've been field testing." He paused for a moment, letting this sink in, and then continued with, "We lost tracking on the thing this afternoon, so they sent me out to troubleshoot it. By the look of things, I'd guess that your accident had something to do with it's breakdown, not the other way around. So if you don't mind, I'm just gonna collect our little broken friend over there and head home. I'd suggest you do the same."

Talia took another step toward the gray-suited man, causing him to take two of his own backward, and said, "Hey, why so jumpy, Mister? You act like you're afraid of me or something. And the way you have that hand jammed into your coat, I'd swear you had it on a gun or something. Do EPA agents usually pack heat?" Then, taking another step forward, just a hint of menace in her tone and posture, she added, "Well do they?"

Taking one more step back, the gray-clad man said in a suddenly authoritarian tone, "Alright, kid, that's close enough! I don't know what you're on, but I don't like your attitude! You need to just stay right there while I grab my little mechanical bug, and then we can both go our separate ways."

Shaking her head slowly, Talia took one more step forward and said, "I don't think so, Mister. I think I'd like for you to stick around a while and educate me on 'EPA sample drones'. How's that one grab you?"

By way of reply, the gray-suited man said simply, "Bad move, kid." Simultaneously, he took his thumb off a certain button he'd been holding down on the small instrument in his hand ever since he'd exited his sedan. This, in turn, caused a small, electronic ping to sound from an earphone worn by the blue-clad woman who was, at that very moment, perched on the upper derrick of a windmill over a quarter of a mile distant, observing all that transpired between Talia and the grey-clad man through the sophisticated optics mounted on a very unusual-looking rifle which she held braced and ready to fire. As soon as the ping sounded, she confirmed her sight-picture, ensuring that the illuminated crosshairs were aligned center mass on Talia, and, pausing on the exhale, slowly squeezed the trigger.

From Clark's point of view, back in the wood line, it was as if a bolt from the blue suddenly struck. One moment Talia was advancing on the gray-suited man, and the next she was spinning around from the impact of something unseen that hit her like an invisible jackhammer. The world slowed down to a crawl for Clark immediately as his perceptions unconsciously shifted into super-speed, and he watched as a small gout of blood blossomed from Talia's torso in seeming slow motion. He was already moving well before she hit the ground, her one short, sharp yelp of pain and surprise stretched out into an almost sub-sonic roar in the expanded time he was living in.

Looking in the direction that whatever had taken Talia down had seemed to come from with his preternatural senses, Clark caught sight of the blue-suited woman where she crouched on the windmill's derrick off across the intervening fields, and sent a finely controlled blast of heat-vision in her direction as he moved. He had just enough time to see her begin to yank her firing hand away from the suddenly and inexplicably incandescent trigger well before he reached the gray-suited man.

Clark saw that the gray-clad man's hand was slowly creeping from inside his jacket, something flat-black and metallic in it, but he didn't bother to confirm that it was a gun. Instead, he simply shoved the gray-suited man lightly in the center of the chest with the heel of his hand, knowing that what was a light shove for him in compressed time would translate to a mule-kick for the gray-clad man. He frowned slightly as he felt something under the gray-suited man's shirt go suddenly rigid, but he didn't give it much consideration. Instead, turning his back on the gray-suited man as he ever-so-slowly went airborne under the force of his blow, Clark raced back to Talia, catching her before she hit the ground.

As Talia landed in his arms, Clark allowed his perceptions to slow back to what most people called normal, and there was the curious but by now familiar sensation of the world around him sort of rushing to catch up. Somewhere behind him, he heard the gray-clad man hit the ground with a grunt and, amazingly, roll to his feet and take off running. 'Must not have hit him as hard as I thought,' Clark mused to himself, simultaneously catching a sharp cry and the clatter of a falling rifle in the distance with his hyper-acute hearing. 'Well,' he added to himself, 'At least that worked out the way I planned.'

Then, momentarily forgetting both business-suited spooks, Clark turned his attention to Talia, who arched her back in agony as he carefully lowered her to the ground. "Ah, God!" She exclaimed. "Damn it, I'd forgotten how much this hurts!"

"Talia," Clark said anxiously, "I know it hurts, but you've got to control yourself for a minute! I can't even see how bad it is!"

"Ahh!" She exclaimed again, "Easy for you to say! You're not the one with a hole in your chest!"

Despite her words, Talia made a conscious effort to reign in her body's reaction to the molten agony that was burning it's way through her torso, and Clark was able to take a better look at her injuries, both outside and in. Peering through the wall of her chest with his x-ray gaze, he soon found the culprit; a short, thin, metallic needle, stuck about half-way through her body. "This isn't good," he said gravely, shaking his head. "It looks like that round, whatever the heck it is, is lodged in one of your lungs."

Fighting to draw a decent breath with a rapidly collapsing lung, Talia wheezed, "I'm still alive, Clark, so it should be okay. I've been hurt worse and bounced back, so I'm sure I'll survive this." Then, pausing to pull in another labored breath, she grinned just slightly and said, "Looks like this is getting to be a habit, Clark. Me getting messed up and you scraping me up afterwards."

Clark just shook his head slowly and, lifting her up once more said, "Well, I guess it's my turn next time then. But right now, let's get you home. Mom and Dad are gonna have a fit, by the way."

Talia started to give a short laugh, but stopped with a gasp as pain shot it's way through her torso. Then, turning her head suddenly toward the brush at the edge of the trees, she said, "Clark! The bug! Don't leave it here! We need to take it with us, and screw worrying about booby traps!"

Clark sighed, and then, moving over to where the flat black metallic insect lay, bent over carefully to pick it up. That proved rather awkward with an injured girl in his arms, but he managed, and, wonder of wonders, it didn't explode or sprout poisonous spines as soon as it was in his hand. That being the case, he handed it off to Talia, who cradled it protectively like a favorite plush toy, and then started to move out.

As Clark jogged toward where they'd concealed the truck, he heard a car's engine roar to life behind him, and, headlights flaring, whip around back toward town. A moment later, somewhere out near the distant windmill, he heard another car start up and he was reasonably sure that this one too turned toward Smallville, judging by the direction the sound faded off into. "Well," he said to Talia, "I guess our two bad-guys just hightailed it. Somehow I think we could've pulled that whole thing off a lot better."

"Yeah," Talia agreed weakly, "I played the 'cocky card' and got the deck handed back to me."

"Still," Clark said, "At least we got away with the bug, if not all the answers we wanted. But you're probably lucky to be alive."

"I don't know about that, Clark," Talia said a bit skeptically. "Snipers pretty much hit what they're aiming for, and if that guy-"

"Gal," Clark interjected almost automatically.

"Alright," Talia continued, her tone equal parts irritation and curiosity, "Gal, then, however you know that. Like I was saying, if that gal had wanted to take me clean out, why not go for a head shot? I don't believe for a second that she couldn't have done it, and it would've been a lot surer thing. So what the hell?"

Shaking his head slowly as they finally came up on the old Dodge truck, Clark said, "You've got me, Talia. You're probably right, she could've taken the better shot, but for some reason she didn't. Do you think they were trying to take you down without killing you?"

"Maybe," Talia said skeptically, "But that would mean that they knew I'd survive a torso hit. Believe me, it would've ripped a normal person almost in two."

"Maybe that's your answer," Clark said as he eased Talia onto the seat. "Maybe she took the easier shot because she didn't think it would matter with a weapon like that."

"I don't know," Talia said, setting the drone down carefully on the seat to her left. "Something's really, really fishy about this, Clark."

"Oh, there's no doubt about that," he said as he climbed behind the wheel. Then, firing the motor up, he added, "No doubt at all."

As he rolled back up the highway toward Smallville's city limits, staying just under the speed limit, the gray-clad man hastily fished his cell phone from his jacket and hit the speed dial. As soon as he heard the pick-up on the other end, not waiting for the other party's greeting, he said quickly, "It's me. Last play was a fumble, I repeat, a fumble. We were intercepted by the same player we were scouting earlier, and she has the ball. We managed to put her on the injured list, but I'm sure she'll be back in the game soon." He paused for a moment to let this sink in and then continued with, "More importantly, it looks like there's a new player on the field. No name to go with the number yet, but this one looks like MVP material too. Knocked me ass over tea kettle too fast to even see, and would've put me out of the game if not for the impact armor. I'll have a preliminary report just as soon as we're back in the locker room."

Jonathan and Martha's reaction was all that Clark had thought it would be once they rolled up the driveway. Both had been more than a little bit worried to begin with, as late as it was, and seeing Talia's condition as she climbed painfully out of the truck, refusing all but the most rudimentary assistance from Clark, more or less sent them over the edge. Both of them came running from the house, where they'd been waiting, peeking out the window periodically for hours.

"Oh, my God, what happened?" Martha exclaimed as she caught sight of the blood smeared over both of them. Then, taking in Talia's hunched posture and pasty complexion, she yelled, "Clark, get her in the house, now!" Then, turning to her husband, she said, "Jonathan! We need to boil some water and get some bandages ready! We can't call an ambulance, so-!"

But before she could quite finish, Talia broke in weakly with, "Mrs. Kent, it's okay. I'll be fine, I think. I just need to clean up a little and then get some rest, that's a- Ahh!" Talia winced then as the round shifted inside her chest, causing a jolt of anguish so intense her knees momentarily buckled.

Stepping forward hastily to help support her, Jonathan said gravely, "Just get some rest? I don't think that's gonna to cut it, kiddo. If I'm not mistaken, that looks a lot like a bullet hole in your chest."

Smiling just slightly, Talia said in the best flippant tone she could manage, "Ah, it's not that bad, Mr. Kent. I think it must've missed my heart by at least three or four inches, so what's there to worry about?"

Seeing both their eyes widen, Talia realized belatedly that the kind of humor she was used to might not be quite as appropriate here as it was back home. This thought was confirmed by the groan she heard from Clark, and by Jonathan's tone as he turned to Clark and said, "What happened out there, Son? And don't spare the details."

With a deep sigh as they moved slowly toward the house, Clark began with, "Well, Dad, it was like this…"

About ten minutes later, after both Talia and Clark had been cleaned up somewhat, Clark finally finished with, "And as soon as we'd snatched up that robot whatever-it-is, we hightailed it back to the truck and came back here."

Everyone was silent for several moments, digesting Clark's slightly abridged version of events, until finally Martha said, "So the two of you found this thing out there and then just decided to hang around and confront whoever came to get it? Without telling anybody what you were doing?" Then, looking to both of them, she added, "And it never occurred to either of you that that might be a bad idea?"

From where she lay on the couch, Talia sighed a bit painfully and said, "It probably should have, Mrs. Kent, but I think both Clark and I were pretty sure we could deal with who- or whatever came along. And, in our defense, I think almost any other time we'd have been right. But this time…"

"This time you underestimated the opposition and overestimated yourselves," Jonathan said matter-of-factly, looking to both Talia and Clark in turn. "Not only that," he added, "But you didn't let anybody know what you were up to in case things went wrong, which they did."

"I can't argue with that, Dad," Clark said a bit remorsefully, and then, eying Talia, he added, "But right now we have a bigger problem. That thing needs to come out of her, and the sooner the better I'm sure."

Talia started to shake her head, stopped suddenly as a lance of pain shot through her chest, and then said, "I keep telling you, Clark, I'm sure that this will get better on it's own. My body will either break the round down and dissolve it, or maybe eventually force it back out like a big splinter. Either way-"

"Either way," Clark cut in, "You'll spend extra hours or days suffering. Not only that, but who knows what that thing's made of? There's no telling what will happen if it does dissolve inside you."

"I'm pretty much immune to toxins, Clark, so-"

"And you're pretty much immune to bullets, too, from what you've said. But this thing still put a hole in you, now didn't it?"

Talia sighed and said, "Yeah, I suppose you have a point, Clark. But how exactly do you plan on getting the damn thing out? The wound's mostly closed by now, and I seriously doubt you've got anything lying around here that can cut me."

The room was silent for a moment, and a significant look passed between Clark and the elder Kents before he said, "I… think we might be able to manage something, Talia. But it probably won't be very pleasant. Still, I really think it would be better to dig that thing out if we can. It's up to you, though; it's your body, after all."

Talia gulped once as she contemplated the thought of some sort of improvised surgery, sans anesthetic, and then finally said, "Well, if we're gonna do this, I guess we might as well get it over with."

A few minutes later, all the preparations that could be made had been. Jonathan had finished boiling the water and readying the bandages that Martha had mentioned earlier, and Martha had prepared an improvised litter on the living room floor upon which Talia now lay. As Jonathan came in from the kitchen with the bandages and a basin of water, Clark came back in from the barn, carrying a short two-by-four, an incongruity which caused Talia to look a bit askance, a question in her gaze.

Answering her unspoken question, Clark said, "There's no delicate way to put this, but… Well, without anesthetic, you're gonna need something to vent on and this is better than the floor."

Talia nodded slowly and said, "Nice. I suppose you're gonna prep something for me to bite down on too?"

With a small smile, Clark took hold of the two-by-four and casually snapped a six-inch section off the end which he then held out to her with an innocent expression. Shaking her head slowly, Talia said, "Nothing super about you, huh Clark?"

"Maybe just a little," he said casually.

"Right," she said sardonically, reclining back on the pallet, and then, "Ready when you are, I guess."

With a deep sigh, Clark knelt down beside her, absently snapping what was left of the two-by-four in half and placing the two pieces on either side of her. "Go ahead and grab hold of those," he said, adding, "And you might want to bite down on the other one now too."

A bit hesitantly she did as he said, a somewhat fearful expression in her eyes as she laid her head back down afterwards. Then, as Clark gazed intently at the nearly closed wound, relocating the offending metal spike with his x-ray vision, Martha and Jonathan settled in to help as they could, she at Clark's right and he at Talia's head. Finally, reasoning that the quicker things were done with the less Talia would end up suffering, Clark let the world around him slow to a crawl, shifting his perceptions into super-speed, and then got down to business.

First, keeping the metallic needle firmly in his x-ray sight, he reached down and placed a finger gently on the edge of the wound, probing it gingerly. As he'd thought, the small, ragged pinhole had indeed almost completely sealed itself up already, and Talia's flesh felt as firm as marble under his touch. With a mental sigh, he positioned his thumbnail at the lower edge of the wound and slowly increased the pressure until finally it bit into her preternaturally tough hide. As he'd thought, however tough her body was, his was tougher, and her skin parted, however reluctantly, under his nail.

The going wasn't easy, but with some effort, he was able to make a small incision in the skin over the wound and then to gradually work his way deeper into the underlying tissues. He proceeded as carefully as possible, knowing that, however slowly he seemed to be moving to himself, to everyone else present he was just a blur of blinding motion. In fact, he doubted he'd ever have attempted what he was doing on anyone less resilient than Talia for fear of accidentally causing them more harm than good. At any rate, he slowly widened and deepened the incision he was making until, finally, he thought it was big enough for what he needed to do next.

Once he'd reached this point, Clark stopped cutting and began to force his index finger and thumb into the re-opened wound, carefully reaching for the sliver of metal inside. He felt his gorge rise as he slid his fingers deeper into the wound, and he noticed that Talia's body was finally beginning to arch upward in slow motion agony in reaction to his efforts. Putting both of these things from his mind, he continued.

Finally, he felt and saw his fingers make contact with the offending object, and, taking it firmly between thumb and forefinger, slowly began to extract it. He didn't dare pull it out too quickly, he knew; at the speed he was moving, he stood a decent chance of taking half of Talia's lung with it if he did. After what seemed like an eternity to him, Clark finally saw the small silvery needle clear the edges of the wound and, breathing a sigh of relief, let the world catch up to him once more.

The first thing that assaulted his senses as he slowed down was the tail-end of an earsplitting shriek from Talia, begun a second or so before as he'd worked. Along with this, of course, was the sound of splintering wood as she bit clean through the chunk of two-by-four in her mouth and crushed the other two sections in her hands into toothpicks. But, thanks to the incredibly short duration of his impromptu surgery, it was only a single shriek she let out, and, as he watched, her arched body abruptly collapsed back to the litter, the worst of the pain already over with.

Martha and Jonathan began to minister to her at once, washing the enlarged and freshly-bleeding wound with clean water and then dressing it with the bandages they'd prepared.

While this was going on, Clark took a few seconds to examine the needle-like projectile he'd extracted curiously. But as he did so, he slowly became aware of an irritating itching sensation wherever the metal touched his skin, and, as well, an all too familiar though strangely weakened ache in his hand. Frowning, he examined the thing more closely, and, though he couldn't be sure, thought he caught just the hint of faint green highlights on it's silvery surface.

Frowning in consternation, he turned to Jonathan and said, "Dad, I think you should take a look at this."

Catching the odd tone in Clark's voice, Jonathan looked to his son and said, "What is it? What's the matter, Clark?"

Thrusting the needle in Jonathan's direction and holding it gingerly as if it'd suddenly grown teeth and threatened to bite him, Clark said gravely, "I'm not sure, but I think this thing is laced with kryptonite."

_Alright, end of chapter 6. A little action here, and a little plot advancement. And for those of you wondering, no, the little needle didn't hurt Talia because of it's kryptonite content. Not directly, at least. But some answers relating to that and a few other things will be given in chapter 7, "Conjectures", hopefully a little later this week. Stay tuned, and, again, please review. Your constructive criticism is, as always, greatly appreciated._


	7. Conjectures

**New Girl in Town**

**By SSG Michael B. Jackson**

_Disclaimer: I don't own a damned thing to do with Smallville, to include any of the DC Comics characters portrayed. Hell, most of them have been around since before my parents were born, so how could I? Anyway, there's no money in this for me; I only want to have a little fun and maybe entertain a few other people as well, so enjoy and please don't sue me. I'm a poor soldier with four kids, so you wouldn't get much anyway!_

"Say what!" Jonathan exclaimed, taking the needle-shaped projectile hastily from Clark's hand. Then, examining it closely himself, he said, "Are you sure?"

Shaking his head, Clark said, "Pretty much so. I mean, there can't be much in there; I barely felt anything. But nothing except kryptonite has ever given me the sensation I just got handling that thing."

"Huh!" Jonathan said, still peering at the small sliver of metal in his hand. "That officially raises things from bad to worse."

There was a moment's silence following this proclamation, which was eventually broken by a somewhat strained voice from the floor. "Uh, I hate to sound like a dummy," Talia said weakly, wiping at the tears she'd been unable to hold back during Clark's brief but agonizing amateur surgery while Martha finished dressing the wound on her chest. "But what the heck is kryptonite? Isn't that, like, the brand name of a lock or something?"

"It's that too," Clark said thoughtfully, "But it's also what we've started calling the meteor rocks around Smallville. After we found out where they came from, that is."

"Meteor rocks?" Talia said quizzically.

Shaking his head slowly, Clark said, "I guess we haven't really gotten around to discussing any local history, have we?"

Talia shook her head by way of answer, and Clark continued with, "Well, you did notice the sign on the way into town, didn't you?"

Talia nodded, and said, "The 'Meteor Capitol' thing?" Then, comprehension dawning on her face, she said, "Oh, I get it now! Yeah, I asked your mom what the heck the sign meant, and she told me about the meteor shower. She said it happened back in what, eighty-nine?"

"Yeah," Clark said, "And this place has been lousy with those meteor rocks ever since. Most of them have a weird, almost phosphorescent green glow to them, so you can't mistake them for much of anything else."

"Okay," Talia said, "I get it. But why 'kryptonite'?"

For the second time that night, a significant look passed between Clark and his parents, and, seeing their reluctant approval, he continued with, "Because the meteor swarm that hit Smallville used to be part of a planet called Krypton. 'Used to be' as in it blew up, and those meteors are what's left of it."

Cocking her head questioningly, Talia said, "Uh, I hate to say this, Clark, but you know all of this _how_?"

"Well," Clark said slowly, "Actually I found most of this out through a guy by the name of Dr. Swann. How he found out is a long story, but… the short version is that the meteors and I are connected. Closely connected, in fact."

"Wait a minute," Talia said a bit skeptically. "Are you trying to tell me that you're from another planet, Clark? From this 'Krypton' place?"

Clark shrugged and said, "I know how that sounds, but is it really any crazier than being from another _universe_?"

"Touché," Talia said quietly, and then, "You're right. And, come to think of it, I guess there were a few supers back home who claimed to be aliens. No one I ever met, mind you, and I'm not too sure how, uh, mentally stable some of those guys were, but… wow. So you're the real deal, huh? A real, live alien…"

"I hope this doesn't weird you out too much," Clark said somewhat sheepishly and then added, "Does it?"

"Clark," Talia said, a smile playing on her lips, "Weirdness has been a part of my life for just about as long as I can remember. Wherever you're from, you are, without a doubt, one of the nicest guys I've ever met, and that's the only important thing as far as I'm concerned." Then, as an afterthought, she added, "Actually, I think it's kind of cool."

Clark shook his head slowly and said, "Only if you're not the one in my shoes." Then, seeing Talia's questioning look, he added with a sigh, "There's a lot of baggage that seems to go with being the 'last son of Krypton'."

"Baggage?" Talia said. "What kind of baggage?"

"Well, for starters," Clark said, "There's the meteor rocks. That green glowing stuff, the kryptonite, is radioactive. Normally, it doesn't really affect human beings much, though there've been some, uh, notable exceptions around here. But it definitely does affect me."

"Affect you how?" Talia said. "Does it make you sick or something?"

Clark nodded and said, "Big time. It's kind of like an allergic reaction, but a lot worse. Basically, the stuff's poison to me; prolonged exposure would kill me."

Talia's eyes widened just a bit and she said, "Wow. And you say this town is lousy with that stuff?"

Clark nodded again and said, "Yup. Keeps life here interesting to say the least."

Talia shook her head slowly and said, "Okay, I see what you mean by baggage." Then, frowning, she said, "So who, besides you and your folks, knows about all this? About the kryptonite especially."

"Well," he said, "There's Pete Ross. He's one of my oldest friends, and I came clean with him a couple of years ago. He knows everything, but he doesn't live around here anymore. He moved to Wichita with his mom last year." He paused for a moment, considering, and then said, "Dr. Swann knew, but… well, he's dead now. I guess his assistant, Dr. Crosby, knew too, but apparently she hasn't been seen for a while, and nobody's sure where she is. Other than that… Lex's dad, Lionel, knew for a little while, but, unless he's just faking, which is always possible, he doesn't remember anymore. And then there's Lex himself; kind of the same story, actually, but he never really knew what was going on. All he knew was that I had powers of some kind, and after Lionel had electro-shock therapy done on him… well, let's just say he forgot a lot of things after that. And the last person I can think of is a kid named Bart Allen. He has powers too, and he knows about mine and the kryptonite, but he doesn't know anything about Krypton. He, uh, took off before we ever got that far."

"Jeez," Talia said a bit incredulously. "That sounds a little… complicated. Not to mention unlucky for most of those people. So basically, this Ross guy and the Allen kid are the only people outside of this house who know everything and, uh, are still in full possession of all their faculties?"

"As far as we know," Clark replied.

"So it's not very likely, then, that that round was laced with kryptonite just for your benefit?"

Frowning slightly, Clark said, "It doesn't seem like it. But why else would these guys be using kryptonite?"

"Hmm," Talia said thoughtfully. "Does it have any other properties? Besides killing you, that is?"

"A whole bunch, actually," Clark said. "In fact, if it has to do with weirdness, kryptonite can probably do it. I've seen it do everything from turn normal people into mutants to route a phone call into the past. So I suppose it's entirely feasible for somebody to use it for something that had nothing to do with me."

Nodding slowly, Talia said, "Makes sense." Then, after a short pause, "Do you know anybody who might be able to do a metallurgical analysis on that spike? Discretely, that is? Because we might just find out a whole lot that way."

Clark was silent for a moment, considering, and then said, "Well, it's just possible that Chloe knows somebody who could. God only knows how, but she seems to have built up connections around here that would be the envy of most big-time reporters. And while we're at it, I think she should see the bug too; she's the one who turned me on to the idea that the accident wasn't really an accident in the first place."

Finally breaking the silence he'd maintained throughout the conversation so far, Jonathan said, "Are you sure that's a good idea, Son? We already know these people are dangerous now; do you really want to get Chloe involved?"

Clark sighed and said, "Dad, you know Chloe. She already knows something's going on, so even if I try to brush her off, she'll keep digging until she's involved anyway. At least this way hopefully she'll stay close enough that I can protect her if anything else does happen. And besides, we really do need her help; I wouldn't know where else to start with this."

From where she knelt, cleaning up the various messes left by Clark's amateur doctoring, Martha said, "If you really think there's no other way, Clark. But be careful. From what you said, I doubt that these people, whoever they are, are just going to give up and go away." Then, frowning, she added, "For that matter, we don't even know what it is they want. Why in the world would a couple of business-suited spooks want to cause a car accident for a farmer's wife out in a little nowhere town in the first place?"

Before anyone else could answer, Jonathan cut in with, "Well, I'm pretty sure that no one here can answer that question tonight, and I'm just as sure that everybody here could use some rest by now. It's been an awfully long day to say the least."

Clark nodded and said, "I guess you're right, Dad. We're not going to get anything else done until morning." Then, heading for the door, he added, "But there's no way I'm gonna leave that bug out in the truck overnight. That'd just be an open invitation for something to happen."

No one offered any replies to this, and, as Clark exited, everyone else began to prepare for bed. Jonathan moved to help Talia to her feet, but, with a gratefully muttered, "Thanks, Mr. Kent, but I'm okay," she waved off his assistance and stood, a bit shakily, on her own. She moved no further than the couch, however, and, lying down said, "I think Clark can have his room back for the night; I don't feel quite up to those stairs just yet."

Both Jonathan and Martha smiled at this, but, before either of them could say anything, Talia had already closed her eyes and, apparently, drifted off to sleep. A moment later, Clark came back in, the screen door banging shut behind him. Both Jonathan and Martha turned quickly in his direction, fingers going to their lips in a gesture for silence. Looking past them, he saw the reason for this and, drone in hand, mouthed a quick "Goodnight" to his parents before tip-toeing with exaggerated care up the stairs. Then, left to their own devices, the elder Kents retired for the evening as well.

On the other side of town, back at a particular unremarkable motel room, another hasty conference was taking place. Three business-suited individuals sat, one on the queen-sized bed and the other two on chairs, speaking quickly but quietly with one another.

"Alright," the black-suited man said, "I've got your initial SITREP; now what's the assessment?"

"Girl's even tougher than we thought," the blue-clad woman replied. "I put a round right through one of her lungs, and she never even lost consciousness. Knocked her down at least, though."

Sitting in a chair near the black-clad man, the gray-suited man nodded and said, "I can verify that. And then there's the mystery target…"

"Go on," the black-suited man said.

"First off, he moved too fast to even see when he hit me. One second I was getting ready to draw down on the girl, and the next something smacked me in the chest like a battering ram. Picked me clean up off the ground and knocked me rolling. If I hadn't been wearing the impact armor, I'm sure I would've been out cold."

"And at the same time," the blue-suited woman added, "the trigger well of my weapon just flared up white-hot. Blistered the hell out of my trigger finger, and caused me to drop the weapon. If it hadn't been tethered to the belt-packs by the power cable, I would've probably lost it altogether."

"Hmm," the black-clad man said thoughtfully. "So we're looking at superhuman speed and strength, plus some sort of heat induction at a distance of over four hundred meters." After a brief pause, the black-suited man looked to the gray-clad man and said, "And you said 'he'? How do you know that if you never saw the new target?"

"I caught just a glimpse of him," the gray-suited man said slowly. "When I got back to my feet and took off, I saw him catch the girl before she hit the ground. It was definitely a male, dark hair and large frame. Couldn't tell much else since all I could see was his back, but…"

"Dark hair and large frame," the black-clad man mused. "That's not a bad description of the Kent kid, now is it?"

The gray-clad man nodded and said, "Exactly what I was thinking." Then, a slight smile curving his lips, he said, "He's on our list of possible high value targets, too."

The blue-clad woman nodded as well and said, "Right up toward the top, if I remember right."

"Right _at_ the top," the black-clad man said with slight emphasis. "In fact, if the girl hadn't popped up right after we got on-site, he'd have been our first priority. According to all the public records checks and all the HUMINT gathered, Clark Kent is the eye at the center of the storm here in Smallville. All of the strangeness in this little town seems to revolve around him, but somehow he's never quite touched by it. Strikes you as kind of odd, now doesn't it?"

Both of the others nodded slowly at this, and then the blue-clad woman said, "So! That being the case, what's the game plan now, chief? Are we going after the drone, or what?"

The black-suited man shook his head, and said, "Not right away. There's nothing inside the thing that can directly compromise us, so let's back off and see what they do for a while. And if we don't like wherever things are going, well… we can always burn that bridge when we come to it, now can't we?"

The next morning, being a Saturday, started out a little slower at the Kent house. There were still chores to be done, of course, so everyone was up at a reasonable hour, but all three Kents were careful not to wake their young guest too early. After the night she'd had, they figured she could use some extra rest, and so it was a good forty-five minutes after everyone else had arisen before the smell of breakfast finally woke her.

She sat up a bit blearily, blinked for a moment trying to remember exactly where she was, and then, recalling the past two nights, gave a little sigh. Finally, looking down at herself, clad only in bra, panties, and bandages as she'd been after the previous evening's little bit of surgery, she wrapped the blanket someone had thoughtfully draped over her around herself toga-style and headed for the kitchen.

"Morning," she said quietly as three sets of eyes turned to her from the kitchen table.

"Morning yourself, young lady," Jonathan said from where he sat. "How're you feeling?"

"Better," Talia said. "I'm gonna go clean up and put on some clothes if it's okay, and I'll check under these dressings too. I'm pretty sure everything will be healed up enough to get rid of them by now."

Her eyebrows raising slightly in surprise, Martha said, "Are you sure, Talia? I mean, only a few hours ago, you had a gaping hole in your chest, and we didn't even stitch it up! Do you really think it's healed that fast?"

Talia shrugged and said, "Should be. I haven't had any injury, no matter how severe, take longer than a few days to heal up since I was eight. Of course, I don't exactly bruise easily, so I don't get a chance to put that to the test very often."

"Well," Clark said thoughtfully, "I guess we'll find out in a few minutes. And don't rush in the shower; we'll keep something hot for you."

Thirty minutes later, Talia was back, dressed now in a knee-length jeans skirt, tennis shoes and a white tank top. Jonathan and Clark had already headed for the barn, but Martha was still there, putting leftovers away and cleaning up.

"Help yourself," she said, pointing to a full plate left on the stove. "There's OJ and milk in the fridge if you want."

Talia nodded gratefully and said, "OJ sounds great, Mrs. Kent. Not only am I starving, but my throat feels like a dry riverbed in the Sahara."

Martha gave a small laugh at this, and, as Talia took her plate and a glass of orange juice back to the table said, "I can imagine. And how's everything else?"

"Okay," Talia said after a long draught of juice. "I got rid of the bandages in the bathroom, and all that's left is this little scar." As she said this, she moved her shirt aside slightly, revealing a round, somewhat livid scar about the size of a nickel. "It should fade out in a day or two," she added. "Scars just don't stick with me."

Shaking her head slightly, Martha said, "Considering all that's happened to you over the last couple of days, that's an awfully good thing."

Talia nodded and said, "Can't argue with that. And speaking of getting hurt; you are planning to go get checked out by a doctor today, aren't you?"

Martha nodded and said, "Definitely. I really think I'm okay, but I'm stiff all over this morning, and I had a headache right at the base of my skull so bad last night that I thought I'd never get to sleep."

Frowning in concern, Talia said, "The sooner you get looked at the better then, Mrs. Kent. You're a super person, but not super the same way Clark and I are." Then, looking down, she added in a quiet, subdued tone, "Sometimes it scares me, Mrs. Kent. How fragile most people are. In fact, sometimes I'm almost afraid to touch people for fear of… breaking them." She was silent for a moment, lost in her own thoughts, and then said, "If I'm not very physical, it's not because I don't like you, Mrs. Kent. It's because I'm a little scared of accidentally hurting you. Can you understand that?"

Compassion written large on her face, Martha put a hand on Talia's arm and said, "Talia, I'd be lying if I said I could even begin to imagine how… different things must be for people like you and Clark. But Jonathan and I have been here for him almost his entire life. And for as long as you're under our roof, we're here for you too."

Putting her fork down, Talia gingerly laid a hand over Martha's and, a single quick tear making it's way down her cheek said, "I guess I was right the first time then, Mrs. Kent. You really are a super person."

After finishing her breakfast, Talia had intended to head for the barn and help out wherever she could, but just as she was putting her plate in the sink, Clark and Jonathan came back in the door.

"Done already?" She said. "I thought the chores never ended on a place like this."

"They don't," Jonathan said wryly. "But you've got to leave off somewhere, and we're caught up for now." Then, looking to Martha, he said, "You ready to head in and get checked out?"

Martha nodded and said, "Whenever you are. And we'll need to stop by the sheriff's office to see when we can get a copy of the accident report too. You can bet the insurance company's going to want it as soon as they can get it."

Jonathan sighed and said, "Yeah, I'm sure of that. Not that it's going to help much. Even with full coverage, we'll never get back what the car was worth. Gonna make replacing it a real pain."

Everyone was silent for a few moments after this somewhat gloomy pronouncement, and then Martha said, "Well, we might as well go and get things over with, then, Jonathan." Then, looking to Clark she said, "You two staying here?"

Clark nodded and said, "For now, anyway. I called Chloe earlier, and, as thrilled as she was to be woken up on a Saturday, she said she'd come by later. If we need to go anywhere, we'll catch a ride with her."

"Alright," Jonathan said, turning for the door. "But remember what we talked about last night. Whatever you end up doing, be careful."

"We will, Dad," Clark earnestly. "Don't worry."

A few minutes later, after Jonathan and Martha had departed, Clark and Talia stood out in the barn in front of a workbench, the drone laid out before them. Clark was staring at it curiously, as he had been for some time, and Talia said, "If you stare at that thing any harder, Clark, you're gonna wear a hole in it. What're you trying to do; look right through it?"

"Actually, yes," Clark said matter-of-factly. "But I'm not having any more luck than I did last night. I can see through the outer carapace, or whatever, but it looks like most of the interior has some kind of lead foil around it."

Talia raised and eyebrow and said, "You can see through things, Clark?"

"Yeah, kind of like an x-ray," he replied. "That a little too weird for you?"

A small smile playing on her lips, Talia said, "More like nostalgic, actually. My mom does something similar. She's got all these weird energy-manipulating powers, and one of the minor ones is being able to see all up and down the electromagnetic spectrum. It lets her see through solid objects under the right conditions, but I don't think it's quite the same as what you're talking about."

Clark shook his head slowly and said, "I keep forgetting that you grew up in a house full of supers. Did that make things easier for you after your powers showed up?"

Talia sighed and said, "Yes and no. Yes in that I didn't have to worry about my own parents treating me like I was a freak all of a sudden. And no in that, once I found out just who and what my parents had been, I suddenly had a lot to live up to. Can you imagine what it's like growing up knowing that your parents used to save the world for a living? Talk about your difficult role models!"

Clark gave a short laugh and then said, "So what're your folks like, Talia? And what can they do? Super-wise, that is."

"Actually," she said slowly, "In a lot of ways, they're kind of like your folks. They're a few years younger than your mom and dad, I think, but they're really cool. They have the same… moral fiber, I guess you'd call it, that your folks have. And they're both patient and understanding like your mom and dad too. Not that they're perfect, of course; nobody is." Then, after a slight pause, "And super-wise… well, I already told you a little about Mom. If it has anything to do with heat, light, radiation, and a few other kinds of energy, she can either produce it or control it. In fact, she can do so many different things, I don't think even she's ever figured all of them out. And Dad… well, I guess I pretty much take after Dad. We basically have the same powers; his are just a lot stronger than mine. His talents run toward bouncing artillery rounds off his chest, tossing small buildings around, and punching bad guys through reinforced concrete walls. That kind of stuff. Oh, and flying; he can leave me in the dust when it comes to flying."

She was silent for a moment more, and then, a sentimental smile and a far away look in her eyes she said, "He taught me to fly. I can still remember that, when I was eight, nine years old; it was like other kids learning to ride a bike! He'd take me out and hold my hand while we flew, at least until I learned how not to fall out of the sky or smack into a tree. After that, we'd just fly together for hours sometimes, farther and farther as I got faster." Looking down, she added in a bare whisper, "God, I miss that."

Putting a hand on Talia's shoulder, Clark said sympathetically, "It sounds like you and your Dad were really close."

She nodded, suddenly holding back tears, and said, "Yeah. And now I'll probably never see him again." Then, her expression hardening as she willed her emotions back under control, she said, "But who the hell am I to feel sorry for myself? You told me last night that your whole planet blew up, with your parents on it, I assume. At least I know mine are still alive and well."

Before Clark could think of a reply to this, they both heard a car roll up outside and a door open and shut. Heading outside, they saw a familiar red Volkswagen, and, heading for the house, Chloe. "Hey!" Clark yelled. "We're over here!"

Turning, Chloe changed course for the barn and said, "Hey yourself! So what's this 'thing' that was so super-secret you wouldn't even mention it directly over the phone?"

"Come on in and have a look," Clark replied, turning back toward the barn's interior.

Chloe followed Clark and Talia back to the workbench, her eyes widening as she caught sight of the drone. Looking to Clark, she said, "Okay, I give. What the heck is that thing, and where did you find it?"

"We're not exactly sure what it is," Clark said slowly, "But where we found it says a lot about what it was probably used for."

"The accident scene?" Chloe asked, her eyebrows going up in surprise.

Talia nodded, and then said quietly, "Over in the brush a couple dozen yards from the car. And that was far from the most exciting thing we found out there last night."

In answer to Chloe's questioning look, Clark said, "We decided to stick around and see if anybody else was interested in this thing. A couple hours later, some spook in a gray suit turned up. He claimed to be from the EPA, of all things, and said this thing was an experimental sampling drone of some kind. When Talia, uh, pressed him on that, some other spook took a shot at her from a sniper perch and then both of them took off."

"Oh, my God," Chloe said, eyes wide. Then, looking to Talia she said, "Are you okay?"

Smiling ruefully, Talia said, "A little shaken up, I guess. But luckily, either the other guy was a crappy shot or I moved at just the right time. Either way, I'm still here, no thanks to them."

"Wow," Chloe said, eyes unfocussed as she digested this. Then, frowning suddenly, she said, "Wait a minute! Did you say a guy in a _gray_ suit?"

Clark nodded and said, "That's right. So?"

"So after the accident yesterday, I talked to my deputy friend; you know, the cute one I talked my out of a ticket with a while ago?"

Grinning slightly, Clark said, "I remember."

"Well, I wasn't really sure what I was after, but I figured I might as well ask if they'd found anything unusual when they investigated the accident. He told me that, even though the whole thing was a little weird, they hadn't found any physical evidence to suggest anything out of the ordinary at the scene. But that's not the important part."

"Well what is, then?" Clark said, a bit bewildered.

"The important part is that, just sort of off-hand-like, my buddy said that the only really weird thing he could remember happening to him yesterday happened out in the courthouse parking lot. He said that, as he was heading out to his patrol car, he ran across some guy who'd just parked his car there and was heading across the street for something. When he told him that he'd have to move the car if he didn't have business inside the courthouse, the guy gave him some half-ass plausible story about just wanting to check out some shop before he went up to the assessor's office." She paused for a moment, and then continued with, "That doesn't really sound like much, but there were three other important things my buddy told me. One, he had a really funny feeling about the guy, like he was up to something no good. Two, he was wearing a gray business suit, just like your bad guy from last night. And three… well, he said he was on company business, and he flashed a Luthor Corp ID."

Silence greeted this announcement, until finally Talia said, "The courthouse. That was the last place Clark's mom and I were yesterday. And that's where I heard the scratching sounds underneath the car. The sounds that this thing must've been making while it messed with the brakes and who knows what else."

Clark was shaking his head slowly as he mulled over the implications of Chloe's new information, and then he said, "Luthor Corp. Chloe, do you really think- do you think that Lex would be behind something like this? A car wreck that could've killed two people? And if so, why? What could he possibly gain from something like that?"

Chloe shrugged and said, "Beats me, Clark. And Lex may be a lot of things, but randomly homicidal isn't one of them. Plus, this just seems… I don't know. Heavy handed? Even if Lex had a reason to do something like this, it just doesn't seem like his style. He's a whole lot more devious than that."

"So maybe the Luthor Corp thing was just a smokescreen then," Talia said slowly. "Whoever these jerks are, they've probably done their homework. So it stands to reason that, whoever they're really working for, they'd have cover stories ready. And with the reputation that Luthor Corp seems to have around here…"

"They'd make a pretty good scapegoat," Clark finished for her. "Or at least a good piece of misdirection."

Chloe nodded slowly and said, "That makes sense. But if these guys aren't working for Luthor Corp, then who are they working for? And why would they want to cause an accident like that any more than Lex would?"

"Those are the two million dollar questions," Clark said evenly. "And I have a feeling that our little friend on the workbench might be able to help us answer them."

A few minutes later, all three of them stood around the workbench, which had become something of an impromptu dissection table. Clark had insisted that both Chloe and Talia stay back as he worked, just in case there were any nasty surprises inside the little mechanical critter, and neither of them had offered more than token objections.

After some initial difficulty getting the damaged carapace open, remedied by the surreptitious use of a little super-strength, the rest seemed to be fairly straightforward. The various screws and nuts that held the thing together were of standard makes, and Clark was reasonably sure that he had all the allen, star-head, and hex tools he'd need somewhere in Jonathan's tool chest. But then, as he was starting to move aside the several layers of lead foil that seemed to shield the heart of the thing, another problem arose.

He'd previously identified a small hole on the drone's outer shell, most likely caused by a piece of shrapnel from the Escort's explosion, and it seemed to go all the way through the inner layers of foil to the center. As he peeled away the last layer, he found that this was indeed the case, and that substantial damage had been done to several unidentifiable components. He only noticed this peripherally, though, because only one damaged part actually mattered to him at that point; a small metallic cylinder that had been pierced and was now leaking a faintly glowing greenish powder onto the circuit boards beneath it.

A wave of nausea swept over him as he moved the lead foil aside, and a familiar ache began to make it's way from his hands on up his arms. With a muttered, "Whoa," he quickly took a step back, the effects of the suddenly exposed kryptonite fading with distance.

From where she stood a couple of paces back, Chloe took a step forward and, sudden concern on her face said, "What is it, Clark? What's the matter?"

"I'm not sure," he said, thinking quickly. "I, uh, just got really dizzy for a second after I opened that thing up."

Frowning slightly, Talia stepped forward to peer at the thing and, seeing the telltale green glow, remembered the conversation of the night before. Thinking quickly also, she said, "Well, I'm no mechanical genius or anything, but with all that lead foil and all… maybe this thing's got a radioactive power source. And if it's damaged…"

"It could be leaking," Clark said quickly.

"Sure," Chloe said a bit skeptically, doubting in her own mind that garden variety radiation would have any real effect on Clark but willing to go along with the charade. "I guess that makes sense." And then, frowning, she said, "So if that's the case, what do we do with it now? Apparently it's not safe to mess around inside it anymore."

"Actually," Clark said, "I was kind of hoping you might have some ideas. You are the one with all the connections, after all."

Chloe's frown deepened for a moment and then, brows suddenly smoothing, she said, "Y'know I just might know somebody who could do something with that thing. I'll have to give him a call first, but…"

"While we're on the subject," Talia said, fishing something from the front pocket of her skirt, "Do you think your friend might be able to do anything with this?" As she finished, she held out the object she'd retrieved, the small metallic needle that'd been dug out of her chest the night before. Jonathan had set it down on the counter before departing with Martha earlier, and, since Clark obviously couldn't, she'd held onto it instead.

Peering at the object curiously, Chloe said, "I'm not sure. It kind of depends on what the heck it is."

"It's the round that those creeps shot at me last night," Talia replied. Then, anticipating Chloe's next question, she added hastily, "We, um, headed back out there early this morning to take another look around. We just got sort of lucky and found this thing stuck in a tree. Clark had a helluva time digging it out, too."

"Riiight," Chloe said, believing not a word of Talia's explanation but willing to let it ride for the moment. "So what do you want to do with it?"

"If it's possible," Clark interjected, "We'd like to get a metallurgical analysis done on it. It's definitely not a normal bullet of any kind, and we'd like to know what it's made of. We're hoping that might give us some more clues to work with."

Chloe nodded slowly and said, "Makes sense, I guess." And then, glancing to both of them in turn she said, "So! You two up for a little trip to Metropolis?"

A few hundred meters down the road from the Kent farm but still well within viewing distance, a white Chevy sedan sat parked off the road and partially obscured by roadside brush. Inside, the blue-suited woman sat behind the wheel, with the gray-clad man to her right. He peered in the direction of the Kent farm with what appeared to be a normal set of binoculars, but wasn't. Then, as a small red Volkswagen pulled out of the driveway, heading in the direction of the interstate, he said, "Looks like the targets are heading out with the Sullivan girl. Ready for a little road trip?"

Grinning sardonically, the blue-clad woman said, "Sure, why not? Just make sure to call 'Dad' and let him know what we're doing."

A few hours later, inside a lab at Metropolis University, Clark, Chloe and Talia all stood, watching curiously from a distance, as Chloe's friend worked on the items they'd brought. How Chloe had come to make the acquaintance of an engineering department professor whose specialty just happened to be robotics, with the requisite base skills in metallurgy, Clark was at first unsure. But her explanation, that she'd consulted him once or twice for background information on a couple of articles while interning at the Daily Planet, was actually quite plausible. At any rate, once she'd hinted to him what they had over the phone, he'd at least agreed to see them, and when he'd seen the drone itself… well, suffice it to say that his interest was peaked. He treated the small metallic spike as a bit of an afterthought, but he did set it up for analysis in a mass spectrometer in the next room, and sort of bounced back and forth between it, the drone, the coffee pot, and the lavatory on a semi-random basis.

Finally, turning away from the drone and stripping off the heavy lead-lined gloves he'd donned as soon as they'd mentioned possible radioactivity, the professor, Dr. Cole, Chloe had called him, came over to the three teenagers. He was a large man, with more the look of someone who'd gotten through college on a wrestling scholarship than on an academic one, but he had a pleasant, soft-spoken voice and retained his good looks in a fortyish way. There was a thoughtful expression on his face as he stopped in front of Chloe, and he said, "Well, I've figured out a few things if you're interested."

"Dying to know would be more like it, Dr. Cole," she said earnestly. "What've you got?"

"Well, for starts… you're sure you don't know where this thing came from?"

Shaking her head, Chloe said, "Sorry, Professor, but it's like we told you. We found it out in a field in Smallville. We were hoping you could help us figure out where it came from."

Nodding slowly, Dr. Cole said, "I see. Well, I'm not sure I can do that, but I can tell you that this thing is state of the art and then some. There's nothing inside of it that's unidentifiable, but… almost all of the components I've looked at in there are at least two generations ahead of anything else I've ever seen. Technological generations, of course, not human ones."

Frowning slightly, Talia said, "What do you mean, Professor? Two generations ahead how?"

"That's a little hard to explain," he said slowly, "But here's an example. The processing system inside that thing… there's not a mark on any of those chipsets to tell who made them, but they're at least three to five years ahead of anything Intel or AMD has out on the market right now. And then there's the headcheese…"

"Headcheese?" Clark said in a bewildered tone, not sure if he'd heard correctly or not, super-hearing notwithstanding.

"Headcheese is a term I'm actually sort of borrowing from science fiction," Dr. Cole said. "It's a little more colorful than saying 'an aeorgel lattice containing live neuronal material in suspension', don't you think?"

Chloe blinked once very deliberately and then said, "Wait a minute. As frightening as it sounds, I think I just understood part of that. Are you telling us that there are live brain cells inside that thing?"

The professor nodded slowly and said, "Oh, it's a sealed unit. A block of aerogel in a plastic case with the neurons suspended inside and a small nutrient reservoir attached. That, in turn, is connected to the regular electronic chipsets, making it an integral part of the processing system."

"Whoa!" Chloe said. "So you're saying that this thing is alive?"

"Hardly," the professor replied. "It's just a kind of organic computing module; we've been experimenting with things like it for years. If I had to guess, I'd say that the neurons in question were probably cultured from a rat or maybe a dog's brain; those are what we've had the best luck with so far. The point is, this thing is years ahead of anything else I've ever seen. It's actually part of a working system, whereas everything else I've ever heard of has just been an experimental setup in a lab. I can't believe that this is actually out there somewhere…"

"Professor," Clark said carefully, "What exactly is the advantage of this thing? You said yourself that it has to be fed some kind of nutrient solution; why not just use straight electronics? Wouldn't that be easier?"

"Easier," the professor agreed. "But there are a lot of things that organic systems are just better at than any electronics we can put together today. In this case, I think that thing is locomotion."

"What do you mean by that, Professor?" Talia asked.

"I mean that, as near as I can tell, that module was wired in to serve the same function for the robot that our cerebellum serves for us. It looks like it was being used to take care of all the minutia involved with locomotion; balance, coordination, patterns of movement for each individual leg and manipulator, things like that. Those are the kinds of things that organic systems still outperform electronics in."

"Wow," Chloe said, obviously impressed. Then, after a moment's pause, she said, "So what else did you find out, Professor? What's the deal with all that lead foil?"

Nodding slowly, Dr. Cole said, "You were right about the power source; it's a small nuclear thermoelectric cell. In fact, given the thing's output, it's a lot smaller than I'd have thought possible."

"How's that, Professor?" Clark said, particularly interested in that piece of hardware.

"Well," the professor said, "To put it bluntly, it's cranking out a lot of juice. A lot more than a normal cell that size could. But this one's anything but normal." Pausing for a moment, he continued with, "I analyzed the reactant leaking out of it, and… well, it's an interesting mix. A little bit of Americium, a dash of Cesium, and a whole lot of something the machine couldn't identify. On a hunch, I called up some old files; the spectral line for the mystery substance looked familiar to me. As it turns out, I was right; there was a match. A man by the name of Dr. Hamilton cataloged the same substance back around nineteen-ninety in a meteoroid sample from-"

"Smallville," Chloe said flatly.

The professor nodded and said, "Good guess. But I seem to remember you having a pet obsession of some sort with those meteors. I looked up your school paper online after our last interview, and I must admit, you make a pretty… compelling case for them having odd properties of some sort." Then, frowning, he added, "If I remember correctly, Dr. Hamilton thought so too."

"Well," Chloe said carefully, "That's neither here nor there, really. But you're saying that somebody's figured out how to use the meteor rocks as a power source?"

The professor nodded and said, "Nuclear physics isn't exactly my strong suit, but it certainly looks like it. Not only that, but apparently it has a lot more kick than more conventional fissionables. And that's not all."

"What else have you got, Professor?" Talia asked.

"That little metal spike… believe it or not, there are trace amounts of the same substance in it. It's mostly tungsten and, oddly enough, depleted uranium, but there's just the tiniest amount of this other stuff mixed in."

"Why?" Clark said, puzzled. "What does the meteor rock do for it?"

"Well, here's a little hint," the professor said. "After I ran that thing through the spectrometer, I tested some of it's physical properties. Among other things, I found out that the only thing I wasn't able to scratch with it was an industrial-grade diamond. That gives your little needle a hardness of somewhere over nine on the Mohs scale. If you're wondering, that makes it just about the hardest known metal on the planet. Now do you understand what the 'meteor rock' does for it?"

"It's a hardener," Clark said slowly. "Like carbon for steel."

The professor nodded again, and then said, "Another odd thing about that spike; it's magnetized. Highly magnetized, in fact."

"Really," Talia said, non-plused. "And just what the heck do you think that means?"

"Actually, I'm not sure," the professor admitted. "Do you have any idea what the thing was used for?"

Talia gave a short laugh and said, "Oh, I know what it was used for, Professor. It was used as a bullet, with me as the target! In fact, if I'd been a little less lucky, well… I think you can figure that one out."

"Huh!" the professor said. "I think that answers that then. Have any of you ever heard the term 'rail gun' before?"

Frowning, Chloe said, "Yeah, actually I've heard Uncle Sam use it. My Uncle, Sam Lane I mean. He was talking about some of the experimental stuff the military is supposedly working on. Nothing classified, of course, just the public disclosure stuff. But I got curious, so I Googled it, and… well, it's a weapon that uses magnetic fields to accelerate a round instead of an explosive charge. I remember reading that a lot of people think it's the future for artillery and stuff like that. They said that they've pretty much reached the limits of what chemical charges can do, and that to get any more velocity, they'll eventually have to go electromagnetic. But I remember that the problem was-"

"Power," the professor said flatly. "In order to power some of their test-rigs, the military had to do things like fill whole cargo trailers full of car batteries. Nothing else would give them the amount of power they needed in one big jolt." Then, looking toward the partially dissected drone on his workbench, the professor said, "But if that power cell is as hot undamaged as I think it is, power wouldn't be an issue for whoever built that thing."

Frowning curiously, Chloe said, "So just how much punch would that little spike have packed, Professor?"

Shaking his head slowly, the professor said, "Let's just say it's a good thing that whoever fired it missed. If it's anything like the theoretical rail-action weapons I've read about, that little spike there must've been traveling somewhere around ten times as fast as any rifle bullet. Couple that up with it being needle-sharp and almost as hard as diamond and… well, I'd have to guess that thing could probably punch it's way right through a couple of _feet_ of plate steel. I'm pretty sure it would've torn a teenaged girl right in half."

"Yeah," Talia said, looking to Clark with just a hint of bone-dry sarcasm in her voice, "Good thing it missed, alright."

"So!" Clark said hastily, trying to draw any possible attention away from Talia's last remark, "Anything else we need to know about this stuff, Professor?"

Dr. Cole shook his head and said, "That's about all I can tell you off the cuff. But I'm sure I haven't even begun to scratch the surface, on the robot at least. Give me a couple of days to get into the electronics, into the software, and I might have some answers for you. There's bound to be some clue as to it's origins in the code that makes it tick."

A significant look passed between the three teenagers, and then finally Chloe said, "Dr. Cole, I'm not so sure that's a good idea. Leaving it here, I mean. After all, whoever this thing belongs to already took a shot at an unarmed girl with the mother of all elephant guns."

But the professor just shook his head and said, "Would it be any safer for you to take it home with you? I can understand why you don't want to take this to the police, but at least here it'll be locked up in the lab and watched over by campus security. Their competence might be questionable, but they're certainly better than nothing." He paused for a moment to let this sink in and then said, "Besides, if you don't let me keep working with it, how are you going to find out anything more about it? Hmm?"

There was silence in the room for a moment as the same significant look passed between Chloe, Clark, and Talia once more. Finally, Chloe caught just a bare hint of a nod from Clark and then said, "I guess you have a point, Professor. But still… be careful. We don't know who the people behind these things are, but we know for sure that they're dangerous."

Nodding absently, the professor said, "Of course, Ms. Sullivan, of course. Now was there anything else?"

"No," Chloe said, turning for the door, "I think that's it for now, Professor. But I'll give you a call tomorrow, just to make sure everything's still cool."

Dr. Cole made no reply to this, turning instead back toward his workbench as the three teens exited, anxiously anticipating a long night of tinkering with his newfound toy.

Outside, across the street from Dr. Cole's lab, a familiar pair sat in a white Chevy sedan, watching unobtrusively as Clark, Chloe and Talia hopped back into the Volkswagen and headed out. This time, in addition to the binos held by the gray-suited man, another device, wielded by the blue-clad woman, was trained on the building across from them. The thing in her hands looked like some sort of miniature parabolic microphone, but while it's function was the same, the manner of it's workings was most definitely not.

"Well, that was certainly educational," the gray-clad man said dryly.

"A little too educational," the blue-suited woman added.

"Yeah," the gray-suited man replied absently, fishing his cell from a coat pocket. After hitting the speed dial, he waited a few seconds and then said, "It's me. We're still down at last reported yardage, and it looks like this quarter's about over. The opposing team had a little huddle, and got a lot more game information than we think is safe. We're going to be following them back to the home field now, but recommend having a couple of local players come in and grab the ball from the new coach. Also recommend that the new coach be offered early retirement, I repeat, early retirement. He knows just a little too much to keep coaching the opposition."

_Wow! End of chapter 7, and boy, did it end up being a long one. Sorry about that, but there was a lot I wanted to squeeze into this one. Also, I know there wasn't any real action in this chapter, but consider it sort of transitional. Things should pick up again in the next couple of chapters, so stay tuned, and please review!_


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